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N.  B.  — Take  out  carefully,  leaving  about  quarter  of  an  inch  at  the  back. 
To  do  otherwise,  would,  in  some  cases,  release  other  leaves. 

SYMONDS,  JOHN  ADDINGTON.  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY 
— Italian  Literature  (Part  II).  By  JOHN  ADDINGTON  SYMONDS. 
New  York:  Henry  Holt  &  Co.,  1882.  Octavo,  pp.  x.,  553. 

RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY.— Italian  Literature  (Part  II). 
By  JOHN  ADDINGTON  SYMONDS.  New  York:  Henry  Holt  &  Co., 
1882.  Octavo,  pp.  x.,  553. 

HISTORY.  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. —Italian  Literature  (Part  II). 
By  JOHN  ADDINGTON  SYMONDS.  New  York:  Henry  Holt  &  Co., 
1882.  Octavo,  pp.  x.,  553. 

ITALY.  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. — Italian  Literature  (Part  II). 
By  JOHN  ADDINGTONV  SYMONDS.  New  York:  Henry  Holt  &  Co., 
1882.  Octavo,  pp.  x.,  553. 

LITERATURE,  ITALIAN.  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY.— Italian 
Literature  (Part  II).  By  JOHN  ADDINGTON  SYMONDS.  New  York : 
Henry  Holt  &  Co.,  1882.  Octavo,  pp.  x.,  553. 


RENAISSANCE    IN    ITALY. 


RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY 


ITALIAN  LITERATURE 


lit  Cto0  farts 


BY 


JOHN    ADDINGTON    SYMONDS 

Author  of 
''Studies  of  tlie  Greek  Poets"  "Sketches  in  Italy  and  Greece"  etc. 


"  Italia,  sepoltura 
De'  lumi  suoi,  d'  esterni  candeliere " 

CAMPANELLA:  Poesie  Filosofiche. 


PART     II 


NEW  YORK 

HENRY    HOLT    AND    COMPANY 

1882 


5-33 


CONTENTS 

OF 

THE    SECOND    PART. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE     ORLANDO     FURIOSO. 

r 

Orlando  Furioso  and  Divina  Commedia — Ariosto  expresses  the  Re- 
naissance as  Dante  the  Middle  Ages — Definition  of  Romantic, 
Heroic,  Burlesque,  Heroic-comic,  and  Satiric  Poems — Ariosto's 
Bias  toward  Romance — Sense  of  Beauty  in  the  Cinque  Cento — 
Choice  of  Boiardo's  unfinished  Theme — The  Propriety  of  this 
Choice — Ariosto's  Irony  and  Humor — The  Subject  of  the  Furioso 
— Siege  of  Paris — Orlando's  Madness — Loves  of  Ruggiero  and 
Bradamante — Flattery  of  the  House  of  Este — The  World  of  Chiv- 
alry— Ariosto's  Delight  in  the  Creatures  of  his  Fancy — Close 
Structure  of  the  Poem — Exaggeration  of  Motives — Power  of 
Picture-painting — Faculty  of  Vision — Minute  Description — Rhe- 
torical Amplification — Rapidity  of  Movement — Solidity — Nicety 
of  Ethical  Analysis — The  Introductions  to  the  Cantos — Episodes 
and  Novelle — Imitations  of  the  Classics — Power  of  Appropria- 
tion and  Transmutation — Irony — Astolfo's  Journey  to  the  Moon 
— Ariosto's  Portrait — S.  Michael  in  the  Monastery — The  Cave  of 
Sleep — Humor — Pathos  and  Sublimity — Olimpia  and  Bireno — 
Conception  of  Female  Character — The  Heroines — Passion  and 
Love — Ariosto's  Morality — His  Style — The  Epithet  of  Divine — 
Exquisite  Finish — Ariosto  and  Tasso — Little  Landscape-Painting 
— Similes — Realism — Adaptation  of  Homeric  Images — Ariosto's 
Relation  to  his  Age 

CHAPTER   X. 

THE     NOVELLIERI. 

Boccaccio's  Legacy — Social  Conditions  of  Literature  in  Italy — Im- 
portance of  the  Novella — Definition  of  the  Novella — Method  of 
the  Novelists — Their  Style — Materials  used — Large  Numbers  of 


vi  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Novelle  in  Print — Lombard  and  Tuscan  Species — Introductions 
to  II  Lasca's  Cene,  Parabosco's  Diporti — Bandello's  Dedications 
— Life  of  Bandello — His  Moral  Attitude— Bandello  as  an  Artist 
—Comparison  of  Bandello  and  Fletcher— The  Tale  of  Gerardo 
and  Elena— Romeo  and  Juliet — The  Tale  of  Nicuota  —  The 
Countess  of  Salisbury — Bandello's  Apology  for  his  Morals  and 
his  Style — II  Lasca — Mixture  of  Cruelty  and  Lust — Extravagant 
Situations — Treatment  of  the  Parisina  Motive — The  Florentine 
Burla — Apology  for  II  Lasca's  Repulsiveness — Firenzuola — His 
Life  —  His  Satires  on  the  Clergy — His  Dialogue  on  Beauty — 
Novelettes  and  Poems — Doni's  Career — His  Bizarre  Humor — 
Bohemian  Life  at  Venice — The  Pellegrini — His  Novelle — Mis- 
cellaneous Works — The  Marmi — The  Novelists  of  Siena — Their 
specific  Character — Sermini — Fortini — Bargagli's  Description  of 
the  Siege  of  Siena — Illicini's  Novel  of  Angelica — The  Proverbi 
of  Cornazano — The  Notti  Piacevoli  of  Straparola — The  Novel  of 
Belphegor — Straparola  and  Machiavelli — Giraldi  Cinthio's  Heca-  ' 
tommithi — Description  of  the  Sack  of  Rome — Plan  of  the  Collec- 
tion— The  Legend  of  the  Borgias — Comparison  of  Italian  Novels 
and  English  Plays 51 

CHAPTER  XL 

THE    DRAMA. 

First  attempts  at  Secular  Drama — The  Orfeo  and  Timone — General 
Character  of  Italian  Plays — Court  Pageants  and  Comedies  bor- 
rowed from  the  Latin — Conditions  under  which  a  National  Drama 
is  formed — Their  absence  in  Italy — Lack  of  Tragic  Genius — Em- 
inently Tragic  Material  in  Italian  History — The  Use  made  of 
this  by  English  Playwrights— The  Ballad  and  the  Drama — The 
Humanistic  Bias  in  Italy — Parallels  between  Greek  and  Italian 
Life — II  Lasca's  Critique  of  the  Latinizing  Playwrights — The  So- 
fonisba  of  Trissino — Rucellai's  Rosmunda — Sperone's  Canace — 
Giraldi's  Orbecche — Dolce's  Marianna, — Transcripts  from  the 
Greek  Tragedians  and  Seneca  —  General  Character  of  Italian 
Tragedies — Sources  of,their  Failure— Influence  of  Plautus  and 
Terence  over  Comedy — Latin  Comedies  acted  at  Florence,  Rome, 
Ferrara  —  Translations  of  Latin  Comedies  —  Manner  of  Repre- 
sentation at  Court — Want  of  Permanent  Theaters — Bibbiena's 
Calandra — Leo  X.  and  Comedy  at  Rome — Ariosto's  Treatment 
of  his  Latin  Models— The  Cassaria,  Suppositi,  Lena,  Negro- 
mante,  Scolastica — Qualities  of  Ariosto's  Comedies — Machia- 
velli's  Plays — The  Commedia  in  Prosa — Fra  Alberigo  and  Mar- 


CONTENTS.  vii 

PAGE 

gherita — The  Clizia — Its  Humor — The  Mandragola — Its  sinister 
Philosophy — Conditions  under  which  it  was  Composed — Aretino 
disengages  Comedy  from  Latin  Rules — His  Point  of  View — The 
Cortegiana,  Marescalco,  Talanta — Italy  had  innumerable  Come- 
dies, but  no  great  Comic  Art — General  Character  of  the  Comme- 
dia  Erudita — Its  fixed  Personages — Gelli,  Firenzuola,  Cecchi, 
Ambra,  II  Lasca — The  Farsa — Conclusion  on  the  Moral  Aspects 
of  Italian  Comedy  . 108 


CHAPTER   XII. 

y '-  PASTORAL   AND    DIDACTIC    POETRY. 

The  Idyllic  Ideal — Golden  Age — Arcadia — Sannazzaro — His  Life — 
The  Art  of  the  Arcadia — Picture-painting — Pontano's  Poetry — 
The  Neapolitan  Genius — Baias  and  Eridanus — Eclogues — The 
Play  of  Cefalo — Castiglione's  Tirsi — Rustic  Romances — Molza's 
Biography — The  Ninfa  Tiberina — Progress  of  Didactic  Poetry — 
Rucellai's  Apt — Alamarihi's  Coltivazione — His  Life — His  Satires 
— Pastoral  Dramatic  Poetry — The  Aminta — The  Pastor  Fido — 
Climax  of  Renaissance  Art  "7 194 

CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE    PURISTS. 

The  Italians  lose  their  Language — Prejudice  against  the  Mother 
Tongue — Problem  of  the  Dialects — Want  of  a  Metropolis — The 
Tuscan  Classics — Petrarch  and  Boccaccio  —  Dante  Rejected — 
False  Attitude  of  the  Petrarchisti — Renaissance  Sense  of  Beauty 
unexpressed  in  Lyj-ic — False  Attitude  of  Boccaccio's  Followers — 
Ornamental  Prose  —  Speron  Sperone  —  The  Dictator  Bembo  — 
His  Conception  of  the  Problem  —  The  Asolani — Grammatical 
Essay — Treatise  on  the  Language  —  Poems — Letters — Bembo's 
Place  in  the  Cortegiano — Castiglione  on  Italian  Style — His  Good 
Sense — Controversies  on  the  Language — Academical  Spirit — In- 
numerable Poetasters — La  Casa — His  Life — //  Forno — Peculiar 
Melancholy — His  Sonnets — Guidiccioni's  Poems  on  Italy — Court 
Life — Caro  and  Castelvetro — Their  Controversies — Castelvetro 
accused  of  Heresy — Literary  Ladies — Veronica  Gambara — Vit- 
toria  Colonna — .Her  Life — Her.  Friendship  for  Michelangelo — 
Life  of  Bernardo  Tasso — His  Amadigi  and  other  Works — Life 
of  Giangiorgio  Trissino — His  Quarrel  with  his  Son  Giulio — His 
Critical  Works— The  Italia  Liberata  .  ...  246 


viii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

BURLESQUE  POETRY   AND   SATIRE. 

PAGB 

Relation  of  Satiric  to  Serious  Literature — Italy  has  more  Parody  and 
Caricature  than  Satire  or  Comedy — Life  of  Folengo — His  Or- 
landino — Critique  of  Previous  Romances — Lutheran  Doctrines — 
Orlando's  Boyhood — Griffarosto  —  Invective  against  Friars  — 
Maccaronic  Poetry — The  Travesty  of  Humanism — Pedantesque 
Poetry — Glottogrysio  Ludimagistro — Tifi  Odassi  of  Padua — The 
Pedant  Vigonc.a — Evangelista  Fossa — Giorgio  Alione — Folengo 
employs  the  Maccaronic  Style  for  an  Epic — His  Address  to  the 
Muses — His  Hero  Baldus — Boyhood  and  Youth — Cingar — The 
Travels  of  the  Barons — Gulfora — Witchcraft  in  Italy — Folengo's 
Conception  of  Witchcraft — Entrance  into  Hell — The  Zany  and 
the  Pumpkin — Nature  of  Folengo's  Satire — His  Relation  to  Rabe- 
lais— The  Moscheis — The  Zanitonella — Maccaronic  Poetry  was 
Lombard — Another  and  Tuscan  Type  of  Burlesque — Capitoli — 
Their  Popular  Growth — Berni — His  Life — His  Mysterious  Death 
— His  Character  and  Style — Three  Classes  of  Capitoli — The  pure 
Bernesque  Manner — Berni's  Imitators — The  Indecency  of  this 
Burlesque — Such  Humor  was  Indigenous — Terza  Rima — Berni's 
Satires  on  Adrian  VI.  and  Clement  VII. — His  Caricatures — His 
Sonnet  on  Aretino — The  Rifacimento  of  Boiardo's  Orlando — 
The  Mystery  of  its  Publication — Albicante  and  Aretino — The 
Publishers  Giunta  and  Calvi  —  Berni's  Protestant  Opinions  — 
Eighteen  Stanzas  of  the  Rifacimento  printed  by  Vergerio — Hy- 
pothesis respecting  the  Mutilation  of  the  Rifacimento — Satire 
in  Italy 309 

CHAPTER  XV. 

PIETRO    ARETINO. 

Aretino's  Place  in  Italian  Literature  and  Society — His  Birth  and 
Boyhood — Goes  to  Rome — In  the  Service  of  Agostino  Chigi — 
At  Mantua — Gradual  Emergence  into  Celebrity — The  Incident  of 
Giulio  Romano's  Postures — Giovanni  delle  Bande  Nere — Aretmo 
settles  at  Venice — The*  Mystery  of  his  Influence — Discerns  the 
Power  of  the  Press — Satire  on  the  Courts — Magnificent  Life — 
Aretino's  Wealth — His  Tributary  Princes — Bullying  and  Flattery 
—  The  Divine  Aretino  —  His  Letter  to  Vittoria  Colonna — To 
Michelangelo — His  Admiration  of  Artists — Relations  with  Men 
of  Letters — Epistle  to  Bernardo  Tasso — His  Lack  of  Learning — 
Disengagement  from  Puristic  Prejudices  —  Belief  in  his  own 


CONTENTS.  ix 

PAGE 

Powers — Rapidity  of  Composition — His  Style — Originality  and 
Independence — Prologue  to  Talanta  —  Bohemian  Comrades  — 
Niccolb  Franco  —  Quarrel  with  Doni  —  Aretino's  Literary  In- 
fluence— His  Death — The  Anomaly  of  the  Renaissance — Esti- 
mate of  Aretino's  Character 383 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

HISTORY   AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

Frivolity  of  Renaissance  Literature — The  Contrast  presented  by 
Machiavelli — His  Sober  Style — Positive  Spirit — The  Connection 
of  his  Works — Two  Men  in  Machiavelli — His  Political  Philos- 
ophy— The  Patria — Place  of  Religion  and  Ethics  in  his  System 
— Practical  Object  of  his  Writings  —  Machiavellism — His  Con- 
ception of  Nationality — His  Relation  to  the  Renaissance — Con- 
trast between  Machiavelli  and  Guicciardini — Guicciardini's  Doc- 
trine of  Self-interest  —  The  Code  of  Italian  Corruption — The 
Connection  between  these  Historians  and  the  Philosophers  — 
General  Character  of  Italian  Philosophy — The  Middle  Ages  in 
Dissolution  —  Transition  to  Modern  Thought  and  Science  — 
!>Humanism  counterposed  to  Scholasticism  —  Petrarch  —  Pico  — 
Dialogues  on  Ethics — Importance  of  Greek  and  Latin  Studies — 
Classical  substituted  for  Ecclesiastical  Authority — Platonism  at 
Florence — Ficino — Translations — New  Interest  in  the  Problem 
of  Life — Valla's  Hedonism — The  Dialogue  De  Voluptate — Aris- 
totle at  Padua  and  Bologna — Arabian  and  Greek  Commentators 
— Life  of  Pietro  Pomponazzi  —  His  Book  on  Immortality — His 
Controversies  —  Pomponazzi's  Standpoint  —  Unlimited  Belief  in 
Aristotle — Retrospect  over  the  Aristotelian  Doctrine  of  God,  the 
World,  the  Human' Soul  —  Three  Problems  in  the  Aristotelian 
System — Universals — The"  First  Period  of  Scholastic  Speculation 
— Individuality — The  Second  Period  of  Scholasticism — Thomas 
Aquinas — The  Nature  of  the  Soul — New  Impulse  given  to  Specu- 
lation by  the  Renaissance — Averroism — The  Lateran  Council — 
Is  the  Soul  Immortal  ? — Pomponazzi  reconstructs  Aristotle's  Doc- 
trine by  help  of  Alexander  of  Aphrodisias — The  Soul  is  Material 
and  Mortal — Man's  Place  in  Nature — Virtue  is  the  End  of  Man — 
Pomponazzi  on  Miracles  and  Spirits — His  Distinction  between 
the  Philosopher  and  the  Christian — The  Book  on  Fate — Pompo- 
nazzi the  Precursor — Coarse  Materialism — The  School  of  Cosenza 
— Aristotle's  Authority  Rejected — Telesio — Campanella — Bruno 
— The  Church  stifles  Philosophy  in  Italy — Italian  Positivism  .  429 


x  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

CONCLUSION. 

PAGE 

Retrospect  —  Meaning  of  the  Ren-aissance  —  Modern  Science  and 
Democracy  —  The  Preparation  of  an  Intellectual  Medium  for 
Europe — The  Precocity  of  Italy — Servitude  and  Corruption — 
Antiquity  and  Art — The  Italian  Provinces — Florence — Lombardy 
and  Venice — The  March  of  Ancona,  Urbino,  Umbria — Perugia 
— Rome — Sicily  and  Naples — Italian  Ethnology — Italian  Inde- 
pendence on  the  Empire  and  the  Church  —  Persistence  of  the 
Old  Italic  Stocks — The  New  Nation— Its  Relation  to  the  Old  — 
The  Revival  of  Learning  was  a  National  Movement — Its  Effect 
on  Art — On  Literature — Resumption  of  the  Latin  Language — 
Affinities  between  the  Latin  and  Italian  Genius — Renascence  of 
Italian  Literature  combined  with  Humanism  —  Greek  Studies 
comparatively  Uninfluential  —  The  Modern  Italians  inherited 
Roman  Qualities  —  Roman  Defects  —  Elimination  of  Roman 
Satire — Decay  of  Roman  Vigor — Italian  Realism — Positivism — 
Sensuousness — Want  of  Mystery,  Suggestion,  Romance  —  The 
Intellectual  Atmosphere — A  Literature  of  Form  and  Diversion — 
Absence  of  Commanding  Genius — Lack  of  Earnestness — Lack  of 
Piety — Materialism  and  Negation — Idyllic  Beauty — The  Men  of 
the  Golden  Age — The  Cult  of  Form — Italy's  Gifts  to  Europe — 
The  Renaissance  is  not  to  be  Imitated  —  Its  Importance  in 
Human  Development  —  Feudalism,  Renaissance,  Reformation, 
Revolution  .  .  .  4.88 


APPENDICES.. 

No.  I. — Italian  Comic  Prologues        .        .     : 533 

No.  II. — Passages  Translated  from  Folengo  and  Berni,  which  Illus- 
trate the  Lutheran  Opinions  of  the  Burlesque  Poets     .  536 

No.  III.-— On  Palmieri's  "Citta  di  Vita"   ...        .        .        .548 

INDEX       .        .        .        .   ,,„,        .        .        .      ...        .        .  555 


UNIVERSITY 


RENAISSANCE   IN    ITALY. 

CHAPTER    IX. 

THE      ORLANDO      FURIOSO. 

Orlando  Furioso  and  Divina  Corn-media  —  Ariosto  expresses  the  Renais- 
sance as  Dante  the  Middle  Ages  —  Definition  of  Romantic,  Heroic, 
Burlesque,  Heroic-comic,  and  Satiric  Poems  —  Ariosto's  Bias  toward 
Romance  —  Sense  of  Beauty  in  the  Cinque  Cento  —  Choice  of  Boiardo's 
unfinished  Theme  —  The  Propriety  of  this  Choice  —  Ariosto's  Irony 
and  Humor  —  The  Subject  of  the  Fitrioso  —  Siege  of  Paris  —  Orlando's 
Madness  —  Loves  of  Ruggiero  and  Bradamante  —  Flattery  of  the  House 
of  Este  —  The  World  of  Chivalry  —  Ariosto's  Delight  in  the  Creatures 
of  his  Fancy  —  Close  Structure  of  the  Poem  —  Exaggeration  of  Motives 

—  Power  of  Picture-painting  —  Faculty  of  Vision  —  Minute  Description 

—  Rhetorical  Amplification  —  Rapidity  of  Movement  —  Solidity  —  Nicety 
of  Ethical  Analysis  —  The  Introductions  to  the  Cantos  —  Episodes  and 
Novelle  —  Imitations  of  the  Classics  —  Power  of  Appropriation  and 
Transmutation  —  Irony  —  Astolfo's  Journey  to  the  Moon  —  Ariosto's 
Portrait—  S.  Michael  in  the  Monastery  —  The  Cave  of  Sleep  —  Humor 

—  Pathos  and  Sublimity  —  Olimpia  and  Bireno  —  Conception  of  Female 
Character  —  The  Heroines  —  Passion  and  Love  —  Ariosto's  Morality  — 
His  Style  —  The  Epithet  of  Divine  —  Exquisite  Finish  —  Ariosto  and 
Tasso  —  Little  Landscape-Painting  —  Similes  —  Realism  —  Adaptation 
of  Homeric  Images  —  Ariosto's  Relation  to  his  Age. 

ARIOSTO'S  Satires  make  us  know  the  man  intus  et  in 
cute  —  to  the  very  core.  The  lyrics  have  a  breadth 
and  amplitude  of  style  that  mark  no  common  master 
of  the  poet's  craft.  Yet  neither  the  Satires  nor  the 
Lyrics  reveal  the  author  of  the  Furioso.  The  artist  in 
Ariosto  was  greater  than  the  man;  and  the  Furioso, 
conceived  and  executed  with  no  reference  to  the  poet's 
personal  experience,  enthroned  him  as  the  Orpheus  of 


RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 


his  age.  "^^OrLindo,  Fiirioso  gave  full  and  final  ex- 
pression to  the  cinque  cento,  just  as  the  DivincTCoTn'- 
;•:  .':'.<•  uncivil  lh:-  hist  word  of  tin-  middle  a^irs.  The 
two  supreme  Italian  singers  stood  in  the  same  relation 
to  their  several  epochs.  Dante  immortalized  medieval 
thoughts  and  aspirations  at  the  moment  when  they 
were  already  losing  their  reality  for  the  Italian  people. 
Separated  from  him  by  a  short  interval  of  time,  came 
Petrarch,  who  substituted  the  art  of  poetry  for  the  pro- 
phetic inspiration;  and  while  Petrarch  was  yet  sing- 
ing, Boccaccio  anticipated  in  his  multifarious  literature 
the  age  of  the  Renaissance.  Then  the  evolution  of 
Italian  literature  was  interrupted  by  the  classical  re- 
vival; and  when  Ariosto  appeared,  it  was  his  duty  to 
close  the  epoch  which  Petrarch  had  inaugurated  and 
Boccaccio  had  determined,  by  a  poem  investing  Boc- 
caccio's world,  the  sensuous  world  of  the  Renaissance, 
with  the  refined  artistic  form  of  Petrarch.  This  he 
accomplished.  But  even  while  he  was  at  work,  Italy 
underwent  those  political  and  mental  changes,  in  the 
wars  of  invasion,  in  the  sack  of  Rome,  in  the  siege  of 
Florence,  in  the  Spanish  occupation,  in  the  reconstruc- 
tion of  the  Papacy  beneath  the  pressure  of  Luther's 
schism,  which  ended  the  Renaissance  and  opened  a 
new  age  with  Tasso  for  its  poet.  Those,  therefore, 
who  would  comprehend  the  spirit  of  Italy  upon  the 
point  of  transition  from  the  middle  ages,  must  study 
the  Divine  Comedy.  Those  who  would  contemplate 
the  genius  of  the  Renaissance,  consummated  and  con- 
scious of  its  aim,  upon  the  very  verge  of  transmutation 
and  eventual  ruin,  must  turn  to  the  Orlando  Furioso. 
It  seems  to  be  a  law  of  intellectual  development  that 


ITALIAN  NARRATIVE    POEMS.  3 

the  highest  works  of  art  can  only  be  achieved  when  the 
forces  which  produced  them  are  already  doomed  and 
in  the  act  of  disappearance.  l 

Italian  critics  have  classified  their  narrative  poems, 
of  wKich  the  name  is  legion,  into  Romantic,  Heroic, 
Burlesque,  Heroic-corriic7~and  Satiric.2  The  romantic 
poet  is  one  who  having  formed1  a  purely  imaginary 
world,  deals  with  the  figments  of  his  fancy  as  though 
they  were  realities.  His  object  is  to  astonish,  fasci- 
nate,  amuse  and  interest  his  readers.  Nothing  comes 
amiss  to  him,  whether  the  nature  of  the  material  be 
comic  or  tragic,  pathetic  or  satiric,  miraculous  or  com- 
monplace, impossible  or  natural,  so  long  as  it  contri- 
butes grace  and  charm  to  the  picture  of  adventurous 
existence  he  desires  to  paint.  His  aim  is  not  instruc- 
tion ;  nor  does  he  seek  to  promote^  laughter.  Putting 
all  serious  purposes  aside,  he  creates  a  wonderland 
wherein  the  actions  and  passions  of  mankind  shall  be 
displayed,  with  truth  to  nature,  under  the  strongly 
colored  light  of  the  artistic  fantasy. 


poet  enters  the  same  enchanted  region  ;  .but  he  de- 
liberately degrades  it  below  the  level  of  common  life, 
parodies  the  fanciful  extravagances  of  romance,  and 
seeks  to  raise  a  laugh  at  the  expense  of  its  most  deli- 
cate illusions.  The  heroic  poet  has  nothing  to  do 

1  Students  who  care  to  trace  the  thoughts  and  characters  of  this  great 
poem  to  their  sources,  should  read  Pio  Rajna's  exhaustive  essay,  Le  Fonti 
(Ml'  Orlando  Furioso,  Firenze,  Sansoni,  1876.     The  details  of  the  Or- 
lando are  here  investigated  and  referred  with  scientific  patience  to  Greek, 
Latin,  French,  Italian,  and  other  originals.     If  anything,  Signor  Rajna 
may  seem  to  have  overstrained  the  point  of  critical  sagacity.    It  is  hardly 
probable  that  Ariosto,  reader  of  few  books  as  Virginio  says  he  waff, 
should  have  drawn  on  stores  so  multifarious  of  erudition. 

2  See  Ugo  Foscolo's  essay  on  the  Narrative  and  Romantic  Poems 
of  Italy  in  the  Quarterly  Review  for  April,  1819. 


4  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

with  pure  romance  and  pleasurable  fiction.  He  deals 
with  the  truths  of  history,  resolving  to  embellish  them 
by  art,  to  extract  lessons  of  utility,  to  magnify  the^ 
virtues  and  the  valor  of  the  noblest  men,  and  to  in- 
flame his  audience  with  the  fire  of  lofty  aspiration. 
His  object,  jmlike  that  of  the  romancer,  is  essentially 
seripjas.  He_js_Jess  anxious-  to  produce  a.Jffork  oj^ 
pure  beauty  than  to  raise  a  monument  of  ideal  and 
moralized  sublimity.  The  heroic-comic  poet  adopts 
the  tone,  style,  conduct  and  machinery  of  the  heroic 
manner ;  but  he  employs  his  art  on  some  trivial  or 
absurd  subject,  making  his  ridicule  of  baseness  and 
pettiness  the  more  pungent  by  the  mock-gravity  of  his 
treatment.  Unlike  the  burlesque  writer,  he  does_not 
aim  at  mere  scurrility.  There  is  always  method  in  his 
buffoonery,  and  a  satiric  purpose  in  his  parody.  The 
satirist  strikes  more  directly ;  he  either  attacks  manner^ 
customs,  institutions,  and  persons  without  disguise,  or 
he  does  so  under  a  thin  veil  of  parable.  He  differs  from 
the  heroic-comic  poet  chiefly  in  this,  that  he  does  not 
array  himself  in  the  epical  panoply.  Within  the  range 
of  Italian  literature  we  find  ready  examples  of  these 
several  styles.  Boiardo  and  Ariosto  are  romantic 
poets.  The  Morgante  Maggiore  is  a  romance  with 
considerable  elements  of  burlesque  and  satire  mingled.1 
Tasso's  Gerusalemme  Liberata  is  a  fair  specimen  of  the 
heroic,  and  Tassoni's  Sccchia,  Rapita  of  the  heroic- 
comic  species.  The  Ricciardetto  of  Fortiguerri  and 
Folengo's  Orlandino  represent  burlesque,  while  Casti's 
Animali  Parlanti  is  a  narrative  satire. 

It  may  seem   at   first  sight  strange   that   Ariosto 

'  Especially  in  Morgante  and  Margutte. 


ARIOSTO' S    CHOICE    OF  ROMANCE.  5 

should  have  preferred  the  romantic  to  the  heroic  style 
of  poetry,  and  that  the  epic  of  the  Italian  Renaissance 
should  be  a  pure  play  of  the  fancy.  Yet  this  was  no 
less  natural  to  the  man  revealed  in  his  Epistles,  than  to 
the  spirit  of  his  century  as  we  have  learned  to  know  it. 
The  passions  and  convictions  that  give  force  to  patriot- 
ism, to  religion,  and  to  morality,  were  extinct  in  Italy ; 
nor  was  Ariosto  an  exception  to  the  general  temper  of 
his  age.  Yet  the  heroic  style  demands  some  spiritual 
motive  analogous  to  the  enthusiasm  for  Rome  which 
inspired  Virgil,  or  to  the  faith  that  touched  the  lips  of 
Milton  with  coals  Trom  the  altar.  An  indolent  and 
tranquil  epicurean,  indifferent  to  the  world  around  him, 
desiring  nothing  better  than  a  life  among  his  books, 
.  with  leisure  for  his  loves  and  day-dreams,  had  not  the 
fiber  of  a  true  heroic  poet ;  and  where  in  Italy  could 
Ariosto  have  found  a  proper  theme  ?  Before  he 
settled  to  the  great  work  of  his  life,  he  began  a  poem 
in  terza  rima  on  the  glories  of  the  House  of  Este. 
That  was  meant  to  be  heroic ;  but  the  fragment  which 
remains,  proves  how  frigid,  how  all  unsuited  to  his 
genius  and  his  times,  this  insincere  and  literary  epic 
would  have  been.1  Italy  offered  elements  of  greatness 
only  to  a  prophet  or  a  satirist.  She  found  her  prophet 
in  Michelangelo.  But  what  remained  for  a  poet  like 
Ariosto,  without  Dante's  anger  or  Swift's  indignation, 
without  the  humor  of  Cervantes  or  the  fire  of  Juvenal, 
without  Tasso's  piety  or  Shakspere's  England,  yet 
equal  as  an  artist  to  the  greatest  singers  whom  the 
world  has  known  ?  The  answer  to  this  question  is  not 
far  to  seek.  What  really  survived  of  noble  and  enthu- 

i  See  Capitolo  iii. 


6  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

siastic  in  the  cinque  cento  was  the  sense  of  beauty, 
the  adoration  of  form,  the  worship  of  art.  The  su- 
preme artist  of  his  age  obeyed  a  right  instinct  when  he 
undertook  a  work  which  required  no  sublime  motive, 
and  which  left  him  free  for  the  production  of  a  master- 
piece of  beauty.  In  this  sphere  the  defects  of  his  nature 
were  not  felt,  and  he  became  the  mouthpiece  of  his  age 
in  all  that  still  remained  of  greatness  to  his  country. 

In  like  manner  we  can  explain  to  ourselves 
Ariosto's  choice  of  Boiardo's  unfinished  theme.  He 
was  not  a  poet  with  something  irresistible  to  say,  but 
an  artist  seeking  a  fit  theater  for  the  exercise  of  his 
omnipotent  skill.  He  did  not  feel  impelled  to  create, 
but  to  embellish.  Boiardo  had  constructed  a  vast  hall 
in  the  style  of  the  Renaissance,  when  it  first  usurped 
on  Gothic ;  he  had  sketched  a  series  of  frescoes  for  the 
adornment  of  its  walls  and  roof,  and  then  had  died, 
leaving  his  work  incomplete.  To  enrich  the  remain- 
ing panels  with  pictures  conceived  in  the  same  spirit, 
but  executed  in  a  freer  and  a  grander  manner,  to  adorn 
them  with  all  that  the  most  wealthy  and  fertile  fancy 
could  conceive,  and  to  bestow  upon  them  perfect  finish, 
was  a  task  for  which  Ariosto  was  eminently  suited. 
Nor  did  he  vary  from  the  practice  of  the  greatest 
masters  in  the  other  arts,  who  willingly  lent  their  own 
genius  to  the  continuation  of  designs  begun  by  pre- 
decessors. Few  craftsmen  of  the  Renaissance  thought 
as  much  of  the  purpose  of  their  work  or  of  its  main 
motive  as  of  execution  in  detail  and  richness  of  effect. 
They  lacked  the  classic  sense  of  unity,  the  medieval 
sincerity  and  spontaneity  of  inspiration.  Therefore 
Ariosto  was  contented  to  receive  from  Boiardo  a  theme 


CONTINUATION   OF  BO  I  ARDORS    THEME.  7 

he  could  embroider  and  make  beautiful,  with  full  em- 
ployment'~oTliis  rare  inventive  gifts  upon  a  multitude 
oLepisodical  iriYfintipns.  It  is  vain  to  regret  that  a  poet 
of  his  caliber  should  not  have  bent  his  faculties  to  the 
task  of  a  truly  original  epic — to  the  re- awakening  of 
prostrate  Italy,  to  the  scourging  of  her  feebleness  and 
folly,  or  even  to  the  celebration  of  her  former  glories. 
Had  he  done  either  of  these  things,  his  poem  would 
not  have  been  so  truly  national,  and  we  should  have 
lacked  the  final  product  of  a  most  brilliant  though 
defective  period  of  civilization. 

Ariosto's  own  temperament  and  the  conditions  of 
his  age  alike  condemned  him  to  the  completion  of 
a  romance  longer  than  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  to- 
gether, which  has  for  its  sole  serious  aim,*  if  serious 
aim  it  has  of  any  sort,  the  glorification  of  an  obscure 
family,  and  which,  while  it  abounds  in  pathos,  wis- 
dom, wit,  and  poetry  of  dazzling  brilliance,  may  at  the 
same  time  be  accused  of  levity,  adulation,  and  licen- 
tiousness. \To  arraign  Ariosto  for  these  faults  is 
tantamount  to  arraigning  his  whole  century  and 
nation.  The  greatest  artist  of  the  sixteenth  century 
found  no  task  worthier  of  his  genius  than  to  flatter 
the  House  of  Este  with  false  pedigrees  and  fulsome 
praises.  He  had  no  faith  that  could  prevent  him 
from  laughing  at  all  things  human  and  divine,  not 
indeed,  with  the  Titanic  play  of  Aristophanes,  whose 
merriment  is  but  the  obverse  of  profound  seriousness, 
but  with  the  indulgent  nonchalance  of  an  epicurean. 
No  sentiment  of  sublimity  raised  him  above  the 
grosser  atmosphere  in  which  love  is  tainted  with 
lust,  luxurious  images  are  sought  for  their  own  sake, 


8  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

and  passion  dwindles  in  the  languor  of  voluptuous- 
ness. The  decay  of  liberty,  the  relaxation  of  morals 
and  the  corruption  of  the  Church  had  brought  the 
Italians  to  this  point,  that  their  representative  Renais- 
sance poem  is  stained  with  flattery,  contaminated 
with  licentiousness,  enfeebled  with  levity.  Poetic 
beauty  of  the  highest  order  it  cannot  claim.  That 
implies  more  earnestness  of  purpose  and  an  ideal  of 
sublimer  purity.  \  Still,  thoiigjbuthe— /r^rz^  mi&sj£s_  the 
supreme  beauty  of  the  Iliad,  the  Antigone  and  the 
Paradise  Lost,  it  has  in  superfluity  that  secondary 
beauty  which  expressed  itself  less  perfectly  in  Italian 
painting.  In  one  respect  it  stands  almost  alone.  The 
form  reveals  no  inequalities  or  flaws.  This  artist's 
hand  has  never  for  a  moment  lost  its  cunning;  this 
Homer  never  nods. 

Pulci  approached  the  romance  of  Charlemagne 
from  a  bourgeois  point  of  view.  He  felt  no  sincere 
sympathy  with  the  knightly  or  the  religious  sentiment 
of  his  originals.  Boiardo  treated  similar  material  in  a 

o 

chivalrous  spirit.  The  novelty  of  his  poem  consisted 
in  the  fusion  of  the"~Carolingian  and  Arthurian  Cycles; 
for  while  he  handled  an  episode  of  the  former  group, 
he  felt  sincere  admiration  for  errant  knighthood  as 
figured  in  the  tales  of  Lancelot  and  Tristram. 
Throughout  the  Orlando  Innamorato  we  trace  the 
vivid  influence  of  feudal  ideals.  Ariosto  differed  in 
his  attitude  from  both  of  his  predecessors.  The  irony 
that  gives  a  special  quality  to  his  romance,  is  equally 
removed  from  the  humor  of  Pulci  and  the  frank  en- 
thusiasm of  Boiardo.  Ariosto  was  neither  the  citizen 
of  a  free  burgh  playing  with  the  legends  of  a  bygone 


ATTITUDE    TOWARDS  ROMANCE.  9 

age,  nor  yet  the  highborn  noble  in  whose  eyes  the  ad- 
ventures of  Orlando  and  his  comrades  formed  a  picture 
of  existence  as  it  ought  to  be.  He  was  a  courtier  and  a 
man  of  letters,  and  his  poem  is  a  masterpiece  of  courtly 
and  literary  art.  Boiardo  never  flattered  the  princes 
of  the  House  of  Este.  Ariosto  took  every  occasion 
to  interweave  their  panegyric  with  his  verse.  For 
Boiardo  the  days  of  chivalry  were  a  glorious  irrecover- 
able golden  age.  Ariosto  contemplated  this  mythical 
past  less  with  the  regret  of  a  man  who  had  fallen 
upon  worse  days,  than  with  the  satisfaction  of  an 
artist  who  perceives  the  rare  opportunities  for  poetic 
.handling  it  afforded.  He  does  not  really  believe  in 
chivalry;  where  Boiardo  is  in  earnest,  Ariosto  jests. 
It  is  not  that,  like  Cervantes,  he  sought  to  satirize  the 
absurdities  of  romance,  or  that  he  set  himself,  like 
Folengo,  to  burlesque  the  poems  of  his  predecessors ; 
but  his  philosophy  inclined  him  to  watch  the  doings  of 
humanity  with  a  genial  half-smile,  an  all-pervasive 
irony  that  had  no  sting  in  it.  A  poet  who  stands  thus 
aside  and  contemplates  the  comedy  of  the  world  with 
the  dry  light  of  a  kindly  and  indulgent  intellect,  could 
not  treat  the  tales  of  Paladins  and  giants  seriously. 
He  uses  them  as  the  machinery  of  a  great  work  on 
human  life,  painting  mankind,  not  as  he  thinks  it  ought 
to  be,  but  as  he  finds  it.  This  treatment  of  romance 
from  the  standpoint  of  good  sense  and  quiet  humor 
produces  an  apparent  discrepancy  between  his  prac- 
tical knowledge  of  the  world  and  his  fanciful  extrava- 
gance. In  the  artistic  harmony  effected  by  Ariosto 
between  these  opposite  elements  lies  the  secret  of  his 
irony.  His  worldly  wisdom  has  the  solidity  of  prose 


10  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

and  embraces  every  circumstance  of  life.  The  crea- 
tures of  his  imagination  belong  to  fairyland  and  exceed 
the  wildest  dreams  in  waywardness.  He  smiles  to  see 
them  play  their  pranks;  yet  he  never  loses  sight  of 
reality,  and  moves  his  puppets  by  impulses  and  pas- 
sions worthy  of  real  men  and  women.  Having 
granted  the  romantic  elements  of  wonder  and  ex- 
aggeration for  a  basis,  we  find  the  superstructure  to  be 
natural.  Never  was  sagacity  of  insight  combined 
more  perfectly  with  exuberance  of  fancy  and  a  joyous 
lightheartedness  than  in  this  poem.  Nowhere  else 
have  sound  lessons  in  worldly  wisdom  been  conveyed 
upon  a  stage  of  so  much  palpable  impossibility. 

We  may  here  ask  what  is  the  main  subject  of  the 
Orlando  Furioso..  The  poem  has  three  chief  sources 
of  interest — the  siege  of  Paris  and  the  final  rout  of  the 
Saracen  army,  the  insanity  of  Orlando,  and  "Ete  jgves 
of  Ruggiero  and  Bradamante.  The  first  serves  merely 
as  a  groundwork  for  embroidery,  a  backgroundTlbr  re- 
lieving more  attractive  incidents.  Orlando's  madnessP 
...  .  .  f-"' 

though  it  gives  its  name  to  the  romance,  is  subordi- 
nate to  the  principal  action.  It  forms  a  proper  de- 
velopment of  the  situation  in  the  Orlando  Innamorato  ; 
and  Ariosto  intends  it  to  be  important,  because  he 
frequently  laments  that  the  Paladin's  absence  from  the 
field  injured  the  cause  of  Christendom.  But  Charle- 
magne,/by  help  of  ,Rinaldo,  Bradamante,  and  Marfisa, 
conquers  without  Orlando's  aid.  /  Thus  the  hero's  in- 
sanity is  only  operative  in  neutralizing  an  influence 
that  was  not  needed  y^nd  when  he  regains  his  wits,  he 
performs  no  critical 'prodigies  of  valor.  Finding  the 
Saracens  expelled  from  France,  and  Charlemagne  at 


SUBJECT   OF  •  THE   FURIOSO.  II 

peace,  Orlando  fights  a  duel  with  a  crownless  king 
upon  a  desert  island  more  for  show  than  for  real  ser- 
vice. Far  different  is  the  remaining  motive  of  the 
poem.  If  the  Furioso  can  be  said  to  have  construc- 
tive unity,  the  central  subject  is  the  love  and  marriage 
ofJRuggiero.  Ariosto  found  this  solution  of  the  plot 
foreshadowed  in  the  Innamorato.  The  pomp  and 
ceremony  with  which  the  fourth  book  opens,  the  value 
attached  to  the  co-operation  of  Ruggiero  in  the  war 
with  Charlemagne,  and  the  romantic  beginning  of  his 
love  for  Bradamante,  make  it  clear  that  Boiardo  would 
have  crowned  his  poem,  as  Ariosto  has  done,  with  the 
union  of  the  ancestors  of  Casa  d'  Este.  Flattery, 
moreover,  was  Ariosto's  serious  purpose.  Conse- 
quently, the  love  of  Ruggiero  and  Bradamante,  whose 
protracted  disappointments  furnished  the  occasion  for 
renewed  prophecies  and  promises  of  future  glory  for 
their  descendants,  formed  the  artistic  center  of  his 
romance.  -The  growing  importance  of  all  that  con- 
cerns this  pair  of  characters,  the  accumulation  of  diffi- 
culties which  interfere  with  their  union,  and  the  final 
honor  reserved  for  Ruggiero  of  killing  the  dreadful 
Rodomonte  in  single  combat,  are  so  disposed  and 
graduated  as  to  make  the  marriage  of  the  august 
couple  the  right  and  natural  climax  to  an  epic  of 
100,000  lines.  The  fascinations  of  Angelica,  the 
achievements  of  Orlando  and  Rinaldo,  the  barbaric 
chivalry  of  Rodomonte  and  Marfisa,  even  the  shock 
of  Christian  and  Pagan  armies,  sink  into  insignificance 
before  the  interest  that  environs  Bradamante  toward 
the  poem's  ending.  Victorious  art  was  needed  for  the 
achievement  of  this  success.  Like  a  pyramid,  upon 


12  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

the  top  of  which  a  sculptor  places  a  gilded  statue,  up 
grows  this  voluminous  romance,  covering  acres  of  the 
plain  at  first,  but  narrowing  to  a  point  whereon  the 
poet  sets  his  heroes  of  the  House  of  Este.1 

Though  the  marriage  of  Ruggiero  and  Brada- 
mante  forms  the  consummation  of  the  Furioso,  it  would 
show  want  of  sympathy  with  Ariosto's  intention  to 
imagine  that  he  wrote  his  poem  for  this  incident  alone. 
The  opening  lines  of  the  first  canto  are  explicit: 

Le  donne,  i  cavalier,  1*  arme,  gli  amori, 

Le  cortesie,  1'  audaci  imprese  io  canto 

Che  furo  al  tempo  che  passaro  i  Mori 

D'  Africa  il  mare,  in  Francia  nocquer  tanto.  .  .  . 

"  The  ladies,  the-  knights,  the  feats  of  arms,  the  loves, 
the  courtesies,  the  bold  adventures  are  my  theme."  In 
one  word,  his  purpose  was  to  paint  the  world  of 
cTuvalry.  Agramante's  expedition  into  France  gives 

him  ihir  time;  Orlando's  madness  is  an  episode; 
Ruggiero's  marriage  forms  a  fitting  climax.  But  his 

1  Ariosto's  method  of  introducing  flattery  is  simple.  He  makes  Mer- 
lin utter  predictions  from  his  tomb,  Melissa  prophesy  to  Bradamante 
and  Atlante  to  Ruggiero;  or  he  displays  magic  frescoes,  statues,  and 
embroideries,  where  the  future  splendors  of  the  Este  family  are  figured; 
or,  again,  in  the  exordia  of  his  cantos  he  directly  addresses  his  patrons. 
Omitting  lesser  passages,  we  may  reckon  fifteen  principal  panegyrics  of 
the  Este  house:  canto  iii.  16  to  end,  the  fabulous  pedigree;  viii.  62,  63, 
praise  of  Ippolito;  xiii.  57  and  on,  praises  of  the  women  of  the  family; 
xiv.  beginning,  the  battle  of  Ravenna  and  Alfonso;  xv.  2,  29,  Alfonso's 
defeat  of  the  Venetians;  xviii.  I,  2,  Alfonso's  justice;  xxxv.  4-9,  prophecy 
of  Ippolito;  xxxvi.  1-9,  Ippolito  and  the  Venetians;  xl.  1-5,  defeat  of  the 
Venetians  again;  xli.  1-3",  general  adulation;  xli.  62-67,  pedigree  again; 
xlii.  3.  Alfonso  wounded;  xlii.  83-92,  women  of  the  family  again;  xliii. 
54-62,  praises  of  Ferrara;  xlvii.  85-97,  life  of  Ippolito.  The  most  extrav- 
agant flatteries  are  lavished  upon  Ippolito  and  Lucrezia  Borgia.  When 
we  remember  who  and  what  these  Este  princes  were — how  brutal  in  his 
cruelty  Alfonso,  how  coarse  and  selfish  and  sensual  Ippolito,  how  doubt- 
ful in  her  life  Lucrezia — we  cannot  but  feel  these  panegyrics  to  be  sicken- 
ing in  their  impudence. 


TREATMENT   OF   CHIVALRY.  13 

true  subject-matter  is  chivalry — the  dream-world  of 
love,  honor,  magic,  marvel,  courtesy,  adventure,  that 
afforded  to  his  fancy  scope  for  its  most  brilliant  imagin- 
ings. In  Ariosto's  age  chivalry  was  a  thing  of  the 
past,  even  among  the  nations  of  the  North.  It  is  true 
that  Francis  I.  was  kneeling  on  the  battlefield  before 
Bayard  to  receive  the  honor  of  knighthood  in  the 
names  of  Oliver  and  Roland.  It  is  true  that  Henry 
VIII.  was  challenging  his  Most  Christian  cousin  to  a 
kingly  settlement  of  their  disputed  claims  in  a  pitched 
field.  But  the  spirit  of  the  times  was  not  in  these 
picturesque  incidents.  Charles  V.,  who  incarnated 
modern  diplomacy,  dynastic  despotism,  and  autocratic 
statecraft,  was  deciding  the  destinies  of  Europe. 
Gunpowder  had  already  revolutionized  the  art  of  feudal 
war.1  The  order  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  monarchical 
and  pompous,  had  eclipsed  the  orders  of  the  Temple 
and  S.  John.  What  remained  of  chivalry  formed  a 
splendid  adjunct  to  Court-equipage;  and  the  knight 
errant,  if  he  ever  existed,  was  merged  in  the  modern 
gentleman.  Far  less  of  real  vitality  had  chivalry 
among  the  cities  of  the  South,  in  the  land  of  Popes 
like  Sixtus,  adventurers  like  Cesare  Borgia,  princes 
like  Lodovico  Sforza,  commercial  aristocracies  like  the 
Republic  of  S.  Mark.  A  certain  ideal  of  life,  summed 
up  in  the  word  cortesia,  existed  in  Italy;  where  numer- 
ous petty  Courts  had  become  the  school  of  refined 
sentiment  and  manners.  But  this  was  not  what  we 
mean  by  chivalry,  and  even  this  was  daily  falsified  by 
the  cynicism  and  corruption  of  the  princes  and  their 

1  See  the  ending  of  the  ninth  and  the  beginning  of  the  eleventh  can- 
tos of  the  Furioso. 


14  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

servants.1  Castiglione's  Cortegiano,  the  handbook  of 
that  new  ideal,  must  be  read  by  the  light  of  the  Roman 
diaries  and  Machiavelli's  speculative  essays.  The 
Renaissance  was  rapidly  destroying  the  feudal  fabric 
of  ideas  throughout  Europe.  Those  ideas  were  always 
weak  in  Italy,  and  it  was  in  Italy  that  the  modern 
intellect  first  attained  to  self-consciousness.  Therefore 
the  magic  and  marvels  of  romance,  the  restless  move- 
ment of  knight-errantry,  the  love  of  peril  and  adven- 
ture for  their  own  sake,  the  insane  appetite  for  combat, 
the  unpractical  virtues  no  less  than  the  capricious 
willfulness  of  Paladins  and  Saracens,  presented  to  the 
age  and  race  of  men  like  Guicciardini  nothing  but  a 
mad  unprofitable  medley.  Dove  avete  trovato,  messer 
Lodovico,  tante  minchionerie  ?  was  no  unpardonable 
question  for  a  Cardinal  to  make,  when  he  opened  the 
Furioso  in  the  Pontificate  of  Clement  VII.  Of  all  this 
Ariosto  was  doubtless  well  aware.  Yet  he  recognized 
in  the  Orlando  a  fit  framework  for  the  exercise  of  his 
unrivaled  painter's  power.  He  knew  that  the  magic 
world  he  had  evoked  was  but  a  plaything  of  the  fancy, 
a  glittering  bubble  blown  by  the  imagination.  This 
did  not  suggest  an  afterthought  of  hesitation  or  regret: 
for  he  could  make  the  plaything  beautiful.  The  serious 
problem  of  his  life  was  to  construct  a  miracle  of  art, 
organically  complete,  harmonious  as  a  whole  and  lovely 
in  the  slightest  details.  Yet  he  never  forgot  that 

1  What  Ariosto  thought  about  contemporary  Italy  may  be  gathered 
from  these  lines  (xvii.  76): 

O  d'  ogni  vizio  fetida  sentina, 
Dormi,  Italia  imbriaca.  e  non  ti  pesa 
Ch1  ora  di  questa  gcnte,  ora  di  quella, 
Che  gia  serva  ti  fu,  sei  fatta  ancella  ? 


WEFT  AND    WOOF   OF    THE    FURIOSO.  15 

chivalry  was  a  dream ;  and  thus  there  is  an  airy  un- 
substantiality  in  his  romantic  world.  His  characters, 
though  they  are  so  much  closer  to  us  in  time  and 
sympathy,  lack  the  real  humanity  of  Achilles  in  the 
Iliad  or  of  Penelope  in  the  Odyssey.  They  do  not  liye 
for  us,  because  they  were  not  living  !oF  the  poet,  but 
painted  with  perfection  from  an  image  in  his  brain. 
He  stood  aloof  from  the  work  of  his  own  hands,  and 
turned  it  round  for  his  recreation,  viewing  it  with  a 
smile  of  conscious  and  delighted  irony.  Nowhere  did 
he  suffer  himself  to  be  immersed  in  his  own  visionary 
universe.  That  wonderland  of  love  and  laughter, 
magic  and  adventure,  which  so  amused  his  fancy  that 
once  he  walked  from  Carpi  to  Ferrara  in  slippers 
dreaming  of  it,  was  to  him  no  more  solid  than  the 
shapes  of  clouds  we  form,  no  more  durable  than  the 
rime  that  melts  before  the  sun  to  nothing.  The  smile 
with  which  he  contemplates  this  fleeting  image,  is  both 
tender  and  ironical.  Sarcasm  and  pathos  mingle  on 
his  lips  and  in  his  eyes ;  for  while  he  knows  it  to  be 
but  a  vision,  he  has  used  it  as  the  form  of  all  his 
thought  and  feeling,  making  of  this  dream  a  mirror 
for  the  world  in  which  his  days  were  spent. 

Notwithstanding  the  difficulty  of  precisely  ascer- 
taining the  main  subject  of  the  Orlando  Furioso,  the 
unity  of  the  poem  is  close,  subtle,  serried.  But  jt  is 
the  unity  of  a  vast  piece  of  tapestry  rather  than  of 
architecture.  There  is  nothing  massive  in  its  Etruc^" 
ture,  no  simple  and  yet  colossal  design  like  that  which 
forms  the  strength  of  the  Iliad  or  the  Divine  Comedy. 
The  delicacy  of  its  connecting  links,  and  the  perpetual 
shifting  of  its  scene  distinguish  it  as  a  romantic 


1 6  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

poem  from  the  true  epic.  The  threads  by  which  the 
scheme  is  held  together,  are  slight  as  gossamer;  the 
principal  figures  are  confounded  with  a  multitude  of 
subordinate  characters ;  the  interest  is  divided  between 
a  succession  of  episodical  narratives.  At  no  point  are 
we  aroused  by  the  shock  of  a  supreme  sensation,  such 
as  that  which  the  death  of  Patroclus  in  the  Iliad 
communicates.  The  rage  of  Rodomonte  inside  the 
walls  of  Paris  has  been  cited  as  an  instance  of  heroic 
grandeur.  But  the  effect  is  exaggerated.  Ariosto  is 
too  much  amused  with  the  extravagant  situation  for 
the  blustering  of  his  Pagan  to  arouse  either  terror  or 
surprise.  When  we  compare  this  episode  with  the 
appearance  of  Achilles  in  the  trench,  the  elaborate 
similes  and  prolonged  description  of  the  Italian  poet 
are  as  nothing  side  by  side  with  the  terrific  shout  of 
the  Greek  hero  stung  at  last  into  activity.  And  what 
is  true  of  Rodomonte  may  be  said  of  all  the  studied 
situations  in  the  Furioso.  Ariosto  pushes  every  motive 
to  the  verge  of  the  burlesque,  heightening  the  passion 
of  love  till  it  becomes  insanity,  and  the  sense  of  honor 
till  it  passes  over  into  whimsical  punctiliousness,  and 
the  marvelous  until  the  utmost  bounds  of  credibility  are 
passed.  This  is  not  done  without  profound  artistic 
purpose.  The  finest  comic  effects  in  the  poem  are  due 
to  such  exaggerations  of  the  motives;  and  the  ironic 
laughter  of  the  poet  is  heard  at  moments  when,  if  he 
preserved  his  gravity,  we  should  accuse  him  of  un- 
pardonable childishness.  Our  chief  difficulty  in  appre- 
ciating the  Furioso  is  to  take  the  author's  point  of  view; 
to  comprehend  the  expenditure  of  so  much  genius  and 
wisdom  upon  paradoxes,  and  to  sympathize  with  the 


PICTORIAL    FACULTY.  17 

spirit  of  a  masterpiece  which,  while  it  verges  on  the 
burlesque,  is  never  meant  to  pass  the  limit. 

In  putting  this  dream-world  of  his  fantasy  upon 
the  canvas,  Ariosto  showed  the  power  of  an  accom- 
plished painter.  This  is  the  secret  of  the  Furiosds 
greatness.  This  makes  it  in  a  deep  sense  the  repre- 
sentative poem  of  the  Italian  Renaissance.  All  the 
affinities  of  its  style  are  with  the  ruling  art  of  Italy, 
rather  than  with  sculpture  or  with  architecture ;  and 
the  poet  is  less  a  singer  uttering  his  soul  forth  to  the 
world  in  song,  than  an  artist  painting  a  multitude  of 
images  with  words  instead  of  colors.  His  power  of 
delineation  never  fails  him.  Through  the  lucid  medium 
of  exquisitely  chosen  language  we  see  the  object  as 
clearly  as  he  saw  it.  We  scarcely  seem  to  see  it  with 
his  eyes  so  much  as  with  our  own,  for  the  poet  stands 
aloof  from  his  handiwork  and  is  a  spectator  of  his 
^pictures  like  ourselves.  So  authentic  is  the  vision 
that,  while  he  is  obliged  by  his  subject  to  treat  the 
same  situations — in  duels,  battles,  storms,  love-passages 
— he  never  repeats  himself.  A  fresh  image  has  passed 
across  the  camera  obscura  of  his  brain,  and  has  been 
copied  in  its  salient  features.  For  the  whole  of  this 
pictured  world  is  in  movement,  and  the  master  has 
the  art  to  seize  those  details  which  convey  the  very 
truth  of  life  and  motion.  We  sit  in  a. dim  theater  of 
thought,  and  watch  the  motley  crowd  of  his  fantastic 
personages  glide  across  the  stage.  They  group  them- 
selves for  a  moment  ere  they  flit  away ;  and  then  the 
scene  is  shifted,  and  a  new  procession  enters;  fresh 
tableaux  vivants  are  arranged,  and  when  we  have  en- 
joyed their  melodies  of  form  and  color,  the  spell  is 


1 8  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

once  more  broken  and  new  actors  enter.  The  stage  is 
never  empty;  scene  melts  into  scene  without  breath- 
ing-space or  interruption;  but  lest  the  show  should 
weary  by  its  continuity,  the  curtain  is  let  down  upon 
each  canto's  closing,  and  the  wizard  who  evokes  these 
phantoms  for  our  pleasure,  stands  before  it  for  a 
moment  and  discourses  wit  and  wisdom  to  his  audi- 
ence. 

It  is  this  all-embracing  universally  illuminating 
faculty  of  vision  that  justifies  Galileo's  epithet  of  the 
DIVINE  for  Ariosto.  This  renders  his  title  of  the 
Italian  Homer  intelligible.  But  we  must  remember 
that  these  high-sounding  compliments  are  paid  him  by 
a  nation  in  whose  genius  the  art  of  painting  holds  the 
highest  rank ;  and  it  may  well  happen  that  critics  less 
finely  sensitive  to  pictorial  delineation  shall  contest 
them  both.  As  in  Italian  painting,  so  in  Ariosto's 
poetry,  deep  thought  and  poignant  passion  are— «ot 
suffered  to  interrupt  the  calm  unfolding  of  a  world 
\vhcrc  plastii:  1. canty  n-i-ns  supreme.  X<>  thrilling 
cry  from  the  heart  of  humanity  is  heard ;  no  dreadful 
insight  into  mortal  woe  disturbs  the  rhythmic  dance. 
Tragedy  is  drowned  and  swallowed  in  a  sea  of  images ; 
and  if  the  deeper  chords  of  pathos  are  touched  here 
and  there,  they  are  so  finely  modulated  and  blent  with 
the  pervading  melody  that  a  harsh  note  never  jars  upon 
our  ears.  A  nation  in  whom  the  dramatic  instinct  is 
paramount,  an  audience  attuned  to  Hamlet  or  King 
Lear,  will  feel  that  something  essential  to  the  highest 
poetry  has  been  omitted.  The  same  imperious  pic- 
torial faculty  compels  Ariosto  to  describe  what  more 
dramatic  poets  are  contented  to  suggest.  Where 


PICTORIAL    IMAGINATION.  19 

Dante  conveys  an  image  in  one  pregnant  line,  he  em- 
ploys an  octave  for  the  exhibition  of  a  finished  picture.1 
Thus  our  attention  is  withdrawn  from  the  main  object 
to  a  multitude  of  minor  illustrations,  each  of  which  is 
offered  to  us  with  the  same  lucidity.  The  daedal  laby- 
rinth of  exquisitely  modeled  forms  begins  to  cloy,  and 
in  our  tired  ingratitude  we  wish  the  artist  had  left 
something  to  our  own  imagination.  It  is  too  much  to 
be  forced  to  contemplate  a  countless  number  of  highly- 
wrought  compositions.  We  long  for  something  half- 
seen,  indicated,  shyly  revealed  by  lightning  flashes  and 
withdrawn  before  it  has  been  fully  shown.  When 
Lessing  in  Laocoon  censured  the  famous  portrait  of 
Alcina,  this  was,  in  part  at  least,  the  truth  of  his  com- 
plaint. She  wearies  us  by  the  minuteness  of  the 
touches  that  present  her  to  our  gaze;  and  the  elabora- 
tion of  each  detail  prevents  us  from  forming  a  com- 
plete conception  of  her  beauty.  But  the  Italians  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  accustomed  to  painted  forms  in 
fresco  and  in  oils,  and  educated  in  the  descriptive 
traditions  of  Boccaccio's  school,  would  not  have  recog- 
nized the  soundness  of  this  criticism.  For  them  each 
studied  phrase  of  Ariosto  was  the  index  to  an  image, 
^summoned  by  memory  from  the  works  of  their  own 
masters,  or  from  life.  His  method  of  delineation  was 
analogous  to  that  of  figurative  art.  In  a  word,  the  de- 
fect pointed  out  by  the  German  critic  is  the  defect  of 

1  Those  who  are  curious  may  compare  the  three  lines  in  which  Dante 
-  likens  Piero  delle  Vigrie's  voice  issuing  from  his  tree  of  torment  to  the 
hissing  of  sap  in  a  green  log  upon  the  fire  (Inf.  xiii.  40)  with  the  eight 
lines  used  by  Ariosto  to  expand  the  same  simile  (Or!.  Fur.  vi.  27);  or, 
again,  Dante's  picture  of  the  sick  woman  on  her  bed  of  fever  (Purg.  vi. 
149)  with  Ariosto's  copy  (Or/.  Fur.  xxviii.  90). 


20  RENAISSANCE    IN  ITALY. 

Ariosto's  greatest  quality,  the  quality  belonging  to  an 
age  and  race  in  which  painting  was  supreme. 

Closely  allied  to  this  pictorial  method  in  the  repre- 
sentation of  all  objects  to  our  mental  vision,  was  Ariosto's 
rhetorical  amplification.  He  rarely  allows  a  situation  to 
be  briefly  indicated  or  a  sentiment  to  be  divined.  The 
emotions  of  his  characters  are  analyzed  at  length;  and 
their  utterances,  even  at  the  fever-heat  of  passion,  are  ex- 
panded with  a  dazzling  wealth  of  illustration.  Many  of 
the  episodes  in  the  Furioso  are  eminently  dramatic,  and 
the  impression  left  upon  the  memory  is  forcible  enough. 
But  they  are  not  wrought  out  as  a  dramatist  would 
handle  them.  The  persons  do  not  act  before  us,  or  ex- 
press themselves  by  direct  speech.  The  artist  has  seen 
them  in  motion,  has  understood  what  they  are  feeling; 
and  by  his  manner  of  describing  them  he  makes  us  see 
them  also.  But  it  is  always  a  picture,  always  an  image; 
that  presents  itself.  Soul  rarely  speaks  to  soul  without 
the  intervention  of  interpretative  art.  This  does  not 
prevent  Ariosto  from  being  a  master  of  the  story- 
teller's craft.  No  poet  of  any  nation  knew  better  what 
to  say  and  what  to  leave  unsaid  in  managing  a  fable. 
The  facility  of  his  narration  is  perfect;  and  though  the 
incidents  of  his  tales  are  extremely  complicated,  there 
is  no  confusion.  Each  story  is  as  limpid  as  each  picture 
he  invents.  Nor,  again,  is  there  any  languor  in  his 
poem.  Its  extraordinary  swiftness  can  only  be  com- 
pared to  the  rush  of  a  shining  river,  flowing  so  smoothly 
that  we  have  to  measure  its  speed  by  objects  on  the 
surface.  1\^JFurioso.  in  spite  of  its  accumulated 
images,  in  spite  of  its  elaborated  rhetoric,  is  in  rapid 
onward  movement  from  the  first  line  to  the  last.  It 


RHETORIC   AND    KNOWLEDGE    OF  MEN.  21 

has  an  elasticity  which  is  lacking  to  the  monumental 
architecture  of  the  Divine  Comedy.  It  is  free  from  the 
stationary  digressions  that  impede  a  student  of  Paradise 
Lost. 

The  fairy-like  fantastic  structure  of  the  Furioso  has 
a  groundwork  of  philosophical  solidity.  Externally  a 
child's  story-book,  it  is  internally  a  mine  of  deep  world- 
wisdom,  the  product  of  a  sane  and  vigorous  intellect. 
Not  that  we  have  any  right  to  seek  for  allegory  in  the 
substance  of  the  poem.  When  Spenser  fancied  that 
Ariosto  had  "  ensampled  a  good  governour  and  vertuous 
man "  in  Orlando — in  the  Orlando  who  went  mad, 
neglected  his  liege-lord,  and  exposed  Christendom  to 
peril  for  Angelica's  fair  face — he  was  clearly  on  the 
wrong  tack.  For  a  man  of  Ariosto's  temperament,  in 
an  age  of  violent  contrast  between  moral  corruption 
and  mental  activity,  it  was  enough  to  observe  human 
nature  without  creating  ideals.  His  knowledge  of  the 
actions,  motives,  passions  and  characters  of  men  is 
concrete ;  and  his  readings  in  the  lessons  of  humanity, 
are  literal.  The  excellence  of  his  delineation  consists 
precisely  in  the  nicety  of  nuances,  the  blending  of  vice 
and  virtue,  the  correct  analysis  of  motives.  He  paints 
men  and  women  as  he  finds  them,  not  without  the 
irony  of  one  who  stands  aloof  from  life  and  takes 
malicious  pleasure  in  pointing  out  its  misery  and  weak- 
ness. If  I  wished  to  indicate  a  single  passage  that 
displays  this  knowledge  of  the  heart,  I  should  not 
select  the  too  transparent  allegory  of  Logistilla1- 
though  even  here  the  contrast  between  Alcina's  seduc- 
tive charms  and  the  permanent  beauty  of  her  sister  is 

•    i  Canto  x.  52  et  seq. 


22  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

wrought  with  a  magnificence  of  detail  worthy  of 
Spenser.  I  would  rather  point  to  the  reflections  which 
conclude  the  tale  of  Marganorre  and  his  wicked  sons.1 
In  lucid  exposition  of  fact  lay  the  strength  of  Ariosto; 
and  here  it  may  be  said  that  he  proved  his  affinity  to 
the  profoundest  spirits  of  his  age  in  Italy — to  Machia- 
velli  and  Guicciardini,  the  founders  of  analytical  science 
for  modern  Europe.  This  intimate  study  of  the  laws 
which  govern  human  action  when  it  seems  most  way- 
ward, is  displayed  in  Grifone's  subjection  to  the  faithless 
Orrigille,  in  the  conflict  of  passions  which  agitate  the 
heroes  of  Agramante's  camp,  in  the  agony  of  Orlando 
when  he  finds  Medoro's  name  coupled  with  Angelica's, 
in  Bradamante's  jealousy,  in  the  conflict  of  courtesy 
between  Leone  and  Ruggiero,  in  the  delusive  visions 
of  Atlante's  castle,  in  the  pride  of  Rodomonte,  and  in 
the  comic  termination  of  Angelica's  coquetries.  The 
difference  between  Ariosto  and  Machiavelli  is,  that 
while  the  latter  seems  to  have  dissected  human  nature 
with  a  scalpel,  the  former  has  gained  this  wisdom 
by  sympathy.  The  one  exhibits  his  anatomical  prep- 
arations with  grim  scientific  gravity ;  the  other  makes 
his  puppets  move  before  us,  and  smiles  sarcastically 
at  their  antics. 

Sometimes  he  condenses  his  philosophy  of  life  in 
short  essays  that  form  the  prefaces  to  cantos,  introduc- 
ing us  as  through  a  shapely  vestibule  into  the  enchanted 
palace  of  his  narrative.  Among  these  the  finest  are 
the  exordia  on  Love  and  Honor,  on  Jealousy,  on 
Loyalty,  on  Avarice,  on  the  fickleness  of  Fortune,  on 

1  Canto  xxxvii.  104  et  seq. 


PRELUDES    TO    THE    CANTOS.  23 

Hypocrisy  in  Courts,  and  on  the  pains  of  Love.1  The 
merit  of  these  discourses  does  not  consist  in  their  pro- 
fundity so  much  as  in  their  truth.  They  have  been 
deeply  felt  and  are  of  universal  applicability.  What 
all  men  have  experienced,  what  every  age  and  race  of 
men  have  known,  the  supreme  poet  expresses  with  his 
transparent  style,  his  tender  and  caressing  melody  of 
phrase,  his  graceful  blending  of  sympathy  and  satire. 
Tasso  in  the  preface  to  Rinaldo  rebukes  Ariosto  for  the 
introduction  of  these  digressions.  He  says  they  are 
below  the  dignity  of  the  heroic  manner,  and  that  a  true 
poet  should  be  able  by  example  and  the  action  of  his 
characters  to  point  the  moral  without  disquisition. 
This  may  be  true.  Yet  Ariosto  was  writing  a  romance, 
and  we  welcome  these  personal  utterances  as  a  relief 
from  the  perpetual  movement  of  his  figures.  In  like 
manner  we  should  be  loth  to  lose  the  lyrical  inter- 
breathings  of  Euripidean  choruses,  or  Portia's  descant 
upon  mercy,  or  Fielding's  interpolated  reflections,  all  of 
which  are  halting-places  for  the  mind  to  rest  on  in  the 
rapid  course  of  dramatic  or  narrative  evolution.  Still 
it  is  not  in  these  detached  passages  that  Ariosto  shows 
his  greatest  wealth  of  observation.  The  novelle,  scat- 
tered with  a  lavish  hand  through  all  his  cantos,  combine 
the  same  sagacity  with  energy  of  action  and  pictorial 
effect.  Whatever  men  are  wont  to  do,  feel,  hope  -for, 
fear— what  moves  their  wrath — what  yields  them  pleas- 
ure, or  inflicts  upon  them  pain — that  is  the  material 
of  Ariosto's  tales.  He  does  not  use  this  matter  either 
as~2T  satirist  or  a  moralist,  as  a"  tragic  poet  to  effect  a 
purification  .of  the  passions,  or,  again,  as  a  didactic 

1  Cantos  xxxviii.  xxxi.  xxi.  xliii.  xlv.  xliv.  xvi. 


24  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 


poet  to  inculcate  lessons.  Lil^^lautuSj...!!^  -seems 
to  say:  "  Whatever  be  the  hues  of  life,  my  words  j>hall 
paint  them."  Following  the  course  of  events  without 
comment,  his  page  reflects  the  mask  of  human  joys 
and  griefs  which  is  played  out  before  him.  In  the  tale 
of  Polinesso  and  Ginevra  all  the  elements  of  pathos 
that  can  be  extracted  from  the  love  of  women  and  the 
treachery  of  men,  are  accumulated.  The  desertion  of 
Olimpia  by  Bireno  after  the  sacrifices  she  has  made 
for  him,  invests  the  myth  of  Ariadne  with  a  wild  ro- 
mantic charm.  Isabella's  devotion  to  Zerbino  through 
captivity  and  danger;  the  friendship  'of  Cloridano  for 
the  beautiful  Medoro,  and  their  piety  toward  Dardin- 
ello's  corpse  ;  Angelica's  doting  on  Medoro,  and  the 
idyll  of  their  happiness  among  the  shepherd  folk  ;  the 
death  of  Brandimarte,  and  Fiordeligi's  agony  of  grief; 
Fiordespina's  vain  love  for  Bradamante,  and  her  con- 
solation in  the  arms  of  Ricciardetto  ;  the  wild  legend 
of  the  Amazons,  who  suffered  no  male  stranger  to 
approach  their  city  ;  Norandino's  loyalty  to  Lucina  in 
the  cave  of  Oreo  ;  Lidia's  cruel  treatment  of  Alceste  ; 
the  arts  whereby  Tanacro  and  Olindo,  sons  of  Mar- 
ganorre,  work  their  wicked  will  in  love;  Gabrina's 
treachery  toward  husband  and  paramour  ;  Giocondo's 
adventures  with  the  king  Astolfo;  the  ruse  by  which 
Argia  justifies  her  infidelity  to  Anselmo  ;  the  sublime 
courtesies  of  Leone;  the  artful  machinations  of  Mel- 
issa —  these  are  the  -rubrics  of  tales  and  situations,  so 
varied,  so  fertile  in  resource,  that  a  hundred  comedies 
and  tragedies  might  be  wrought  from  them.  Ariosto, 
inJiis  conduct  of  these  stories,  attempts  no  poetical 
justice.  Virtue  in  distress,  vice  triumphant,  one  pas- 


NOVELS  AND   MYTHS.  25 

sion  expelling  another,  nobler  motives  conquered  by 
baser,  loyalty  undermined  by  avarice,  feminine  frailty 
made  strong  to  suffer  by  the  force  of  love;  so  runs  the 
world,  and  so  the  poet  paints  it. 

New  and  old,  false  and  real,  he  mixes  all  together, 
and  by  the  alchemy  of  his  imagination  makes  the 
fusion  true.  The  classics  and  the  Italian  poets,  writers 
of.  history  and  romance,  geographers  and  chroniclers, 
have  been  laid  under  contribution.  But  though  the 
poem  is  composed  of  imitations,  it  is  invariably 
original,  because  Ariosto  has  seen  and  felt  whatever 
he  described.  Angelica  on  the  horse  going  out  to  sea 
recalls  Europa.  The  battle  with  the  Ore  is  borrowed 
from  the  tale  of  Perseus.  Astolfo  in  the  myrtle  grove 
comes  straight  from  Virgil.  Cloridano  and  Medoro 
are  Nisus  and  Euryalus  in  modern  dress.  The  shield 
of  Atlante  suggests  Medusa's  head.  Pegasus  was  the 
parent  of  the  Hippogriff,  and  Polyphemus  of  Oreo. 
Rodomonte  rages  like  Mezentius  and  dies  like  Turnus. 
Grifone  on  the  bridge  is  a  Renaissance  study  from 
Horatius  Codes.  Senapo  repeats  the  myth  of  Phineus 
and  the  Harpies.  Yet  throughout  these  plagiar- 
isms Ariosto  remains  himself.  He  has  assimilated  his 
originals  to  his  own  genius,  and  has  given  every  inci- 
dent new  life  by  the  vividness  of  his  humanity.  If  it 
were  needful  to  cite  an  instance  of  his  playful,  practical 
ironic  treatment  of  old  material,  we  might  point  to 
Lucinda's  feminine  delicacy  in  the  cave  of  Oreo.  She 
refuses  to  smear  herself  with  the  old  goat's  fat,  and 
fails  to  escape  with  Norandino  and  his  comrades  from 
the  hands  of  this  new  Polyphemus.  So  comprehen- 
sive is  the  poet's  fancy  that  it  embraces  the  classic  no 


26  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

less  than  the  medieval  past.  Both  are  blent  in  a  third 
substance  which  takes  life  from  his  own  experience 
and  observation.  In  this  respect  the  art  of  Ariosto 
corresponds  to  Raphael's — to  the  Stanza  of  the  Seg- 
natura  or  the  Antinous-Jonah  of  the  Chigi  Chapel. 
It  is  the  first  emancipation  of  the  modern  spirit  in  a 
work  of  catholic  beauty,  preluding  to  the  final  emanci- 
pation of  the  reason  in  the  sphere  of  criticism,  thought, 
and  science. 

The  quality  which  gives  salt  and  savor  to  Ari- 
osto's  philosophy  of  life  is  irony,  sometimes  border- 
Trig  on  satire,  sometimes  running  over  into  drollery  and 
humor.  Irony  is  implicit  in  the  very  substance  of 
the  Furioso.  The  choice  of  a  mad  Orlando  for  hero 
reveals  the  poeVs  intention;  and  the  recovery  oT'bis 
lost  wits  from  th5~Tnoon  parodies  the  medieval  doc- 
trine that  only  in  the  other  world  shall  we  find  our 
true  selves.  The  fate  of  Angelica,  again,  is  supremely 
ironical.  After  flouting  kings  and  Paladins,  the  no- 
blest knights  of  the  whole  world,  her  lovers,  she  dotes 
upon  a  handsome  country-lad  and  marries  .him  in  a 
shepherd's  hut.  Medoro  plucks  the  rose  for  which 
both  Christendom  and  Paynimry  had  fought  in  furious 
rivalry;  and  wayward  Love  requites  their  insults  with 
a  by-blow  from  his  dart.  Such,  smiles  the  poet,  is 
the  end  of  pride,  ambition,  passion,  and  the  coquetries 
that  placed  the  kingdoms  of  the  East  and  \Ycst  in 
peril.  Angelica  is.  the  embodiment  of  mortal  frailty. 
The  vanity  of  human  wishes,  the  vicissitudes  which 
blind  desire  prepares  for  haughtiest  souls,  the  paradoxes 
held  in  store  by  destiny,  are  symbolized  and  imaged  in 
her  fate. 


IRONY.  27 

Astolfo's  journey  to  the  moon,  related  in  the  thirty- 
fourth  and  thirty-fifth  cantos,  presents  the  Ariostean 
irony  with  all  its  gradations  of  satire,  parody,  and  comic 
humor.  This  Duke  of  England  in  the  Italian  ro- 
mances played  the  part  of  an  adventurous  vain-glori- 
ous cavalier,  eminent  for  courtesy  and  courage,  who 
carried  the  wandering  impulse  of  knight-errantry  to 
the  extreme  verge  of  the  ridiculous.  We  find  him  at 
the  opening  of  the  thirty-fourth  canto  in  possession  of 
Atlante's  Hippogriff  and  Logistilla's  marvelous  horn. 
Mounting  his  winged  horse,  he  flies  through  space, 
visits  the  sources  of  the  Nile,  and  traverses  the  realm 
of  Ethiopia.  There  he  delivers  King  Senapo  from  a 
brood  of  Harpies,  whom  he  pursues  to  the  mouth  of 
a  cavern  whence  issues  dense  smoke.  This  is  the  en- 
trance into  Hell : 

L'  orecchie  attente  allo  spiraglio  tenne, 
E  1'  aria  ne  senti  percossa  e  rotta 
Da  pianti  e  d'  urli,  e  da-lamento  eterno; 
Segno  evidente  quivi  esser  lo  'nferno. 

The  paladin's  curiosity  is  roused,  and  he  determines  to 
advance : 

Df  che  debbo  temer,  dicea,  s'  io  v*  entro  ? 
Ch6  mi  posso  aiutar  sempre  col  corno. 
Faro  fuggir  Plutone  e  Satanasso, 
E  '1  can  trifauce  leverb  dal  passo. 

This  light-hearted  reliance  in  a  perfectly  practical 
spirit  upon  his  magic  horn  is  wholly  in  keeping  with 
Ariosto's  genius.  The  terrible  situation,  the  good  sense 
of  the  adventurer,  and  the  enchantment  which  pro- 
tects him  are  so  combined  as  to  be  prosaically  natural. 
Astolfo  gropes  his  way  into  the  cavern  and  is  imme- 
diately suffocated  by  dense  smoke.  In  the  midst  of  it 


28  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

above  his  head  he  sees  a  body  hanging  and  swinging 
to  and  fro  like  a  corpse  on  a  gibbet  He  cuts  at  this 
object  with  his  sword,  and  wakes  the  melancholy  voice 
of  Lidia,  who  tells  him  that  in  the  smoke  are  pun- 
ished obdurate  and  faithless  lovers.  The  tale  of  her 
falseness  to  Alceste  is  very  beautiful,  and  shows  great 
knowledge  of  the  heart.  But  it  leads  to  nothing  in 
the  action  of  the  poem,  and  Astolfo  goes  out  of  Hell 
as  he  came  in — except  that  the  smoke  has  befouled 
both  face  and  armor,  and  he  has  to  scrub  himself  in 
a  fountain  before  he  can  get  clean  again.  Meanwhile 
Ariosto  has  parodied  the  opening  of  Dante's  Inferno 
with  its  sublime : 

Mi  mise  dentro  alle  segrete  cose. 

Lidia  is  the  inversion  of  Francesca;  for  her  sin  was, 
not  compliance  with  the  impulses  of  nature,  but  un- 
kindness  to  her  lover.  This  travesty  is  wrought  with  no 
deliberate  purpose,  but  by  a  mere  caprice  of  fancy,  to 
entertain  his  audience  with  a  novel  while  he  flouts 
the  faiths  and  fears  of  a  more  earnest  age.  For 
Ariosto,  the  child  of  the  Renaissance,  there  remained 
nothing  to  affirm  or  to  deny  about  the  future  of  the 
soul.  The  Inferno  of  the  middle  ages  had  become  a 
plaything  of  romance.  Astolfo  now  pursues  his  jour- 
ney, looks  in  on  Prester  John,  and  scales  the  mountain 
of  the  Earthly  Paradise.  There  he  finds  a  palace 
wrought  of  precious  stones,  and  in  the  vestibule  an 
ancient  man  with  venerable  beard  and  snowy  hair. 
This  is  no  other  than  S.  John  the  Evangelist,  who 
hastens  to  feed  the  knight's  horse  with  good  corn,  and 
sets  before  him  a  table  spread  with  fruits  which  make 
the  sin  of  Adam  seem  excusable: 


ASTOLFO'S   JOURNEY   TO    THE   MOON.  .        2(, 

Con  accoglienza  grata  il  cavaliero 
Fu  dai  santi  alloggiato  in  una  stanza: 
Fu  provvisto  in  un'  altra  al  suo  destriero 
Di  buona  biada,  che  gli  fu  abbastanza. 
De'  frutti  a  lui  del  paradise  diero, 
Di  tal  sapor,  ch'  a  suo  giudicio,  sanza 
Scusa  non  sono  i  duo  primi  parenti, 
Se  per  quei  fur  si  poco  ubbidienti! 

S.  John,  delighted  with  his  courteous  guest,  discourses 
many  things  about  Orlando,  his  lost  wits,  and  the 
.moon  where  they  have  been  stored  with  other  rubbish. 
At  the  close  of  their  conversation,  he  remarks  that  it 
is  a  fine  night  for  a  journey  to  the  moon;  and  orders 
out  the  fiery  chajiot  which  erewhile  took  Elijah  up  to 
heaven.  It  holds  two  passengers  with  comfort;  and 
after  a  short  voyage  through  the  air,  Astolfo  and  the 
Evangelist  land  upon  the  lunar  shores.  The  stanzas 
which  describe  the  valley  of  vain  things  and  useless 
lumber  lost  to  earth,  are  justly  famous  for  .their  satire 
and  their  pathos.1  There  are  found  the  presents  made 
to  kings  in  hope  of  rich  reward,  the  flatteries  of  poets, 
shameful  loves,  the  services  of  courtiers,  the  false 
beauties  of  women,  and  bottles  filled  with  the  lost 
sense  of  men.  The  list  is  long;  nor  was  Milton  un- 
mindful of  it  when  he  wrote  his  lines  upon  the  Para- 
dise of  Fools.2  The  passage  illustrates  certain  quali- 
ties in  Ariosto's  imagination.  He  has  no  dread  of  the 
prosaic  and  the  simple.  Inexhaustibly  various;|ilike  in 
thought,  in  rhythm,  in  imagery,  and  in  melody  of 
phrase,  he  yet  keeps  close  to  reality,  and  passes  with- 
out modulation  from  seriousness  to  extravagant  fun, 
returning  again  to  the  sadness  of  profound  reflection. 
His  poetry  is  like  the  picture  of  his  own  face — a  large 

»  Canto  xxxiv.  76-85.  *  Par.  Lost,  iii.  440. 


30  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

and  handsome  man  with  sleepy  eyes  and  epicurean 
mouth,  over  whose  broad  forehead  and  open  features, 
plowed  by  no  wrinkles  of  old  age  or  care,  float  subtle 
smiles  and  misty  multitudes  of  thoughts  half  lost  in 
dreams.  Human  life  to  Ariosto  was  a  comedy  such  as 
Menander  put  upon  the  Attic  stage;  and  the  critic 
may  ask  of  him,  too,  whether  he  or  nature  were  the 
plagiarist. 

Meanwhile  S.  John  is  waiting  at  Astolfo's  elbow  to 
point  out  the  Fates,  spinning  their  web  of  human 
destinies,  and  Time  carrying  the  records  of  history  to 
the  river  of  oblivion.  It  is  a  sad  picture,  did  not 
Ariosto  enliven  the  most  somber  matter  with  his  in- 
corrigible humor.  By  the  river  bank  of  Lethe  wait 
cormorants  and  swans.  The  former  aid  Time  in  his 
labor  of  destruction.  The  latter,  who  symbolize  great 
poets,  save  chosen  names  from  undeserved  neglect. 
This  leads  to  a  discourse  on  the  services  rendered  by 
writers  to  their  patrons,  which  is  marked  by  Ariosto's 
levity.  He  has  just  been  penning  praises  for  Ippo- 
lito.1  Yet  here  he  frankly  confesses  that  the  eulogies 
of  poets  are  distortions  of  the  truth,  that  history  is 
a  lie,  and  that  the  whole  pageant  of  humanity  con- 
ceals a  sorry  sham.  S.  John  is  even  made  to  hint 
that  his  good  place  in  Paradise  is  the  guerdon  of  a 
panegyric  written  on  his  Master: 

Gli  scrittpri  amo,  e  fo  il  debito  mio; 

Ch'  al  vostro  mondo  fui  scrittore  anch'  io: 

E  sopra  tutti  gli  altri  io  feci  acquisto 
Che  non  mi  pub  levar  tempo  ne  morte; 
E  ben  convenne  al  mio  lodato  Cristo 
Rendermi  guidardon  di  si  gran  sorte. 

1  Canto  xxxv.  4-9. 


S.   MICHAEL   IN   THE   MONASTERY.  31 

The  episode  of  Astolfo's  journey  to  the  moon 
abounds  in  satire  upon  human  weakness  in  general. 
Another  celebrated  passage  has  satire  of  a  more  direct 
kind,  and  is,  moreover,  valuable  for  illustrating  Ariosto's 
conduct  of  his  poem.  Paris  is  besieged  by  the 
assembled  forces  of  the  Saracens.  The  chief  Paladins 
are  absent,  and  Charlemagne  in  his  sore  need  addresses 
a  prayer  to  Heaven.1  It  is  just  such  a  prayer  as  the 
Israelites  offer  up  in  Rossini's  Mose  in  Egitto — very 
resonant,  very  rhetorical,  but  without  sincerity  of  feeling. 
Ariosto  selects  a  number  of  decorous  phrases  redolent 
of  Reniassance  humanism,  tolte  agV  inimici  stigi,  al 
maggior  tempio,  gli  occhi  al  del  supini,  and  combines 
them  with  melodramatic  effect.  God  accepts  the 
Emperor's  prayer,  and  sends  Michael  down  to  earth  to 
find  Discord  and  Silence,  in  order  that  the  former  may 
sow  strife  in  the  Saracen  camp,  and  the  latter  lead  re- 
enforcements  into  Paris.  Michael  starts  upon  his 
errand : 

Dovunque  drizza  Michelangel  1'  ale, 
Fuggon  le  nubi,  e  torna  il  ciel  sereno; 
Gli  gira  intorno  un  aureo  cerchio,  quale 
Veggiam  di  notte  lampeggiar  baleno. 

He  flies  straight  to  a  monastery,  expecting  to  find 
Silence  there.  The  choir,  the  parlor,  the  dormitory, 
the  refectory  are  searched.  Wherever  he  goes,  he 
sees  Silenzio  written  up :  but  Silence  cannot  be  found. 
Instead  of  him,  Discord  presents  herself,  and  is  recog- 
nized by.  her  robe  of  many-colored  fluttering  ribbons, 
disheveled  hair,  and  armful  of  law-papers.  Fraud, 
too,  accosts  the  angel  with  a  gentle  face  like  Gabriel's 

i  Canto  xiv.  68-73. 


32  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

when  he  said  Ave!  To  Michael's  question  after  Silence, 
Fraud  replies:  he  used  to  live  in  convents  and  the 
cells  of  sages ;  but  now  he  goes  by  night  with  thieves, 
false  coiners  and  lovers,  and  you  may  find  him  in  the 
houses  of  treason  and  homicide.  Yet  if  you  are  very 
anxious  to  lay  bands  on  him  at  once,  haste  to  the  haunt 
of  Sleep.  This  cavern  is  described  in  stanzas  that  un- 
doubtedly suggested  Spenser's;  but  Ariosto  has  nothing 
so  delicate  as : 

A  trickling  stream  from  high  rock  tumbling  down, 
And  ever  drizzling  rain  upon  the  loft, 
Mixed  with  a  murmuring  wind  much  like  the  sown 
Of  swarming  bees. 

Instead,  he  paints  in  his  peculiar  style  of  realistic 
imagery,  the  corpulent  form  of  Ease,  Sloth  that  can- 
not walk  and  scarce  can  stand,  Forgetfulness  who  bars 
the  door  to  messengers,  and  Silence  walking  round  the 
cave  with  slippers  of  felt.  Silence,  summoned  by  the 
archangel,  sets  forth  to  meet  Rinaldo.  Discord  also 
quits  the  convent  with  her  comrade  Pride,  leaving 
Fraud  and  Hypocrisy  to  keep  their  places  warm  till 
they  return.  But  Discord  does  her  work  inadequately ; 
and  the  cries  of  Rodomonte's  victims  rise  to  heaven. 
This  rouses  Michael  from  his  slumber  of  beatitude. 
He  blushes,  plumes  his  pinions,  and  shoots  down  again 
to  earth  in  search  of  Discord  among  the  monks.  He 
finds  her  sitting  in  a  chapter  convened  for  the  election 
of  officers,  and  makes  her  in  a  moment  feel  his 
presence : l 

Le  man  le  pose  1'  Angelo  nel  crine, 
E  pugna  e  calci  le  die  senza  fine. 
Indi  le  roppe  un  manico  di  croce 

1  Canto  xxvii.  37. 


HUMOROUS   INCIDENTS.  33 

Per  la  testa,  pel  dosso  e  per  le  braccia. 

Merce  grida  la  misera  a  gran  voce, 

E  le  ginocchia  al  divin  nunzio  abbraccia. 

This  is  a  good  specimen  both  of  Ariosto's  peculiar 
levity  and  of  the  romantic  style  which  in  the  most 
serious  portion  of  his  poem  permitted  such  extrava- 
gance. The  robust  archangel  tearing  Discord's  dis- 
heveled hair,  kicking  her,  pounding  her  with  his  fists, 
breaking  a  cross  upon  her  back,  and  sending  her  about 
her  business  with  a  bee  in  her  bonnet,  presents  a  pic- 
ture of  drollery  which  is  exceedingly  absurd.  Nor  is 
there  any  impropriety  in  the  picture  from  the  poet's 
point  of  view.  Michael  and  the  Evangelist  are  scarcely 
serious  beings.  They  both  form  part  of  his  machinery 
and  help  to  make  the  action  move. 

Broad  fun,  untinctured  by  irony,  seasons  the 
Furioso — as  when  Astolfo  creates  a  fleet  by  throwing 
leaves  into  the  sea,  and  mounts  his  Ethiopian  cavalry 
on  horses  made  of  stone,  and  catches  the  wind  in  a 
bladder;  all  of  which  burlesque  miracles  are  told  with 
that  keen  relish  of  their  practical  utility  which  formed 
an  element  of  Ariosto's  sprightliness.1  Ruggiero's 
pleasure-trip  on  Rabicane;  Orlando's  achievement  of 
spitting  six  fat  Dutchmen  like  frogs  upon  one  spear; 
the  index  to  Astolfo's  magic  book;  the  conceit  of  the 
knights  who  jousted  with  the  golden  lance  and  ascribed 
its  success  to  their,  own  valor;  Orlando's  feats  of 
prowess  with  the  table  in  the  robber's  den;  are 
other  instances  of  Ariosto's  light-heartedness,  when  he 
banters  with  his  subject  and  takes  his  readers  into 

1  Canto  xxxviii.  30,  33,  26. 


34  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

confidence  with  his  own  sense  of  drollery.1  The  don- 
key race  in  armor  between  Marfisa  and  Zerbino  for  a 
cantankerous  old  hag,  with  its  courteous  ceremonies 
and  chivalrous  conclusion,  might  be  cited  as  an  exam- 
ple of  more  sustained  humor.2  And  such,  too,  though 
in  another  region,  is  the  novel  of  Jocondo. 

Ariosto's  irony,  no  less  than  his  romantic  method, 
deprived  the  Furioso  of  that  sublimity  which  only 
belongs  to  works  of  greater  seriousness  and  deeper 
conviction.  Yet  he  sometimes  touches  the  sublime  by 
force  of  dramatic  description  or  by  pathetic  intensity. 
The  climax  of  Orlando's  madness  has  commonly  been 
cited  as  an  instance  of  poetic  grandeur.  Yet  I  should 
be  inclined  to  prefer  the  gathering  of  the  storm  of 
discord  in  Agramante's  camp.3  The  whole  of  this 
elaborate  scene,  where  the  fiery  characters  and  tem- 
pestuous passions  of  the  Moslem  chiefs,  of  Ruggiero, 
Rodomonte,  Gradasso,  Mandricardo,  and  Marfisa,  are 
brought  successively  into  play  by  impulses  and  motives 
natural  to  each  and  powerful  to  produce  a  clash  of 
adverse  claims  and  interests,  is  not  only  conceived  and 
executed  in  a  truly  dramatic  spirit,  but  is  eminently  im- 
portant for  the  action  of  the  poem.  The  thunder- 
clouds which  had  been  mustering  to  break  in  ruin 
upon  Christendom,  rush  together  and  spend  their  fury 
in  mid  air.  Thus  the  moment  is  decisive,  and  nothing 
has  been  spared  to  dignify  the  passions  that  provoke 
the  final  crash.  They  go  on  accumulating  in  com- 
plexity, like  a  fugue  of  discords,  till  at  last  the  hyper- 
bole of  this  sonorous  stanza  seems  justified 4 : 

'  Canto  x.  72;  ix.  68;  xxii.  16;  xlv.  65;  xiii.  36. 

»  Canto  xx.  122.  3  Canto  xxvii.  «  Ibid,  101. 


SUBLIMITY  AND    PATHOS.  35 

Tremo  Parigi.  e  turbidossi  Senna 
All'  alta  voce,  a  quell'  orribil  grido; 
Rimbombb  il  suon  fin  alia  selva  Ardenna 
Si  che  lasciar  tutte  le  fiere  il  nido. 
Udiron  1'  Alpi  e  il  monte  di  Gebenna, 
Di  Blaia  e  d'  Arli  e  di  Roano  il  lido; 
Rodano  e  Sonna  udi,  Garonna  e  il  Reno: 
Si  strinsero  le  madri  i  figli  al  seno. 

His  pathos  also  has  its  own  sublimity.  Imogen 
stretched  lifeless  on  the  corpse  of  Cloten ;  the  Duchess 
of  Malfi  telling  Cariola  to  see  that  her  daughter  says 
her  prayers ;  Bellario  describing  his  own  sacrifice  as  a 
mere  piece  of  boyhood  flung  away — these  are  instances 
from  our  own  drama,  in  which  the  pathetic  is  sublime. 
Ariosto's  method  is  different,  and  the  effect  is  more 
rhetorical.  Yet  he  can  produce  passages  of  almost 
equal  poignancy,  prolonged  situations  of  overmastering 
emotion,  worthy  to  be  set  side  by  side  with  the  Euri- 
pidean  pictures  of  Polyxena,  Alcestis,  or  Iphigenia.1 
The  death  of  Zerbino ;  the  death  of  Brandimarte  with 
half  of  Fiordeligi's  name  upon  his  lips ;  the  constancy 
of  Isabella  offering  her  neck  to  Rodomonte's  sword; 
the  anguish  of  Olimpia  upon  the  desert  island;  are 
instances  of  sublime  poetry  wrung  from  pathos  by 
the  force  of  highly-wrought  impassioned  oratory.  Zer- 
bino is  one  of  the  most  sympathetic  creations  of  the 
poet's  fancy.  Of  him  Ariosto  wrote  the  famous  line 2 : 

Natura  il  fece,  e  poi  ruppe  la  stampa. 

1  The  comparison  of  Ariosto  and  Euripides  is  not  wholly  fanciful. 
Both  were  supreme  artists  in  an  age  of  incipient  decadence,  lacking  the 
convictions  of  their  predecessors,  and  depending  for  effect  upon  rhetor- 
ical devices.    Both  were  rpayiKaJraroi  in  Aristotle's  sense  of  the  phrase, 
and  both  were  romantic  rather  than  heroic  poets. 

2  Canto  x.  84. 


36  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

He  is  killed  by  the  Tartar  Mandricardo  before  his 
lady  Isabella's  eyes l : 

A  questo  la  mestissima  Isabella, 
Declinando  la  faccia  lacrimosa, 
E  congiungendo  la  sua  bocca  a  quella 
Di  Zerbin,  languidetta,  come  rosa, 
Rosa  non  colta  in  sua  stagion,  si  ch'  ella 
Impallidisca  in  su  la  siepe  ombrosa, 
Disse:  Non  vi  pensate  gia,  mia  vifa, 
Far  senza  me  quest"  ultima  partita. 

With  stanzas  like  this  the  poet  cheats  the  sorrow 
he  has  stirred  in  us.  Their  imagery  is  too  beautiful  to 
admit  of  painful  feeling  while  we  read;  and  thus, 
though  the  passion  of  the  scene  is  tragic,  its  anguish  is 
brought  by  touches  of  pure  art  into  harmony  with  the 
romantic  tone  of  the  whole  poem.  So  also  when  Isa- 
bella, kneeling  before  Rodomonte's  sword,  like  S. 
Catherine  in  Luini's  fresco  at  Milan,  has  met  her  own 
death,  Ariosto  heals  the  wound  he  has  inflicted  on  our 
sensibility  by  lines  of  exquisitely  cadenced  melody 2 : 

Vattene  in  pace,  alma  beata  e  bella. 
Cosi  i  miei  versi  ayesson  forza,  come 
Ben  m*  aflfaticherei  con  tutta  quella 
Arte  che  tanto  il  parlar  orna  e  come, 
Perche  mille  e  mill'  anni,  e  piu,  novella 
Sentisse  il  mondo  del  tuo  chiaro  nome. 
Vattene  in  pace  alia  superna  sede, 
E  lascia  all'  altre  esempio  di  tua  fede. 

But  it  is  in  the  situations,  the  elegiac  lamentations, 
the  unexpected  vicissitudes,  and  the  strong  pictorial 
beauties  of  Olimpia's  novel,  that  Ariosto  strains  his 

1  The  whole  scene,  with  all  its  gradations  of  emotion,  is  too  long  to 
quote.     But  see  xxiv.  74-87. 
•  Canto  xxix.  27. 


OLIMPIA. 


37 


power  over  pathos  to  the  utmost.  Olimpia  has  lost 
her  kingdom  and  spent  her  substance  for  her  husband, 
Bireno.  Orlando  aids  her  in  her  sore  distress,  and 
frees  Bireno  from  his  prison.  Bireno  proves  faithless, 
and  deserts  her  on  an  island.  She  is  taken  by  cor- 
sairs, exposed  like  Andromeda  on  a  rock  to  a  sea- 
monster,  and  is  finally  rescued  by  Orlando.  Each  of 
these  touching  incidents  is  developed  with  consummate 
skill ;  and  the  pathos  reaches  its  height  when  Olimpia, 
who  had  risked  all  for  her  husband,  wakes  at  dawn  to 
find  herself  abandoned  by  him  on  a  desolate  sea-beach.1 
In  this  passage  Ariosto  comes  into  competition  with 
two  poets  of  a  different  stamp — with  Catullus,  who  thus 
describes  Ariadne : 

Saxea  ut  effigies  Bacchantis  prospicit: 

and  with  Fletcher,  who  makes  Aspatia  in  the  Maid's 
Tragedy  dramatize  the  situation.  Catullus  in  a  single 
felicitous  simile,  Fletcher  by  the  agony  of  passionate 
declamation,  surpass  Ariosto's  detailed  picture.  The 
one  is  more  restrained,  the  other  more  tragic.  •  But 
Ariosto  goes  straight  to  our  heart  by  the  natural 
touch  of  Olimpia  feeling  for  Bireno  in  the  darkness, 
and  by  the  suggestion  of  pallid  moonlight  and  a  shiver- 
ing dawn.  The  numerous  prosaic  details  with  which 
he  has  charged  his  picture,  add  to  its  reality,  and 
enhance  the  Euripidean  quality  we  admire  in  it. 

In  the  case  of  a  poet  whose  imagination  was  in- 
variably balanced  by  practical  sound  sense,  the  per- 
sonal experience  he  acquired  of  the  female  sex  could 
not  fail  to  influence  his  delineation  of  women.  He  was 

1  Canto  x.  20-34. 


38  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

not  a  man  to  cherish  illusion  or  to  romance  in  verse 
about  perfection  he  had  nev^r  found  in  fact.  He  did 
not  place  a  Beatrice  or  Laura  on  the  pedestal  of  his 
heart ;  nor  was  it  till  he  reached  the  age  of  forty-seven, 
when  the  Furioso  had  lain  for  six  years  finished  on  his 
desk,  that  he  married  Alessandra  Strozzi.  His  great 
poem,  completed  in  i5i5,  must  have  been  written 
under  the  influence  of  those  more  volatile  amours  h'e 
celebrated  in  his  Latin  verses.  Therefore  we  are  not 
surprised  to  find  that  the  female  characters  of  the/ 
Orlando  illustrate  his  epistle  on  the  choice  of  a  wife./ 
His  highest  ideal  of  woman  is  presented  to  us  in 
Bradamante,  whose  virtues  are  a  loyal  attachment  to 
Ruggiero  and  a  modest  submission  to  the  will  of  her 
parents.  Yet  even  in  Bradamante  he  has  painted  a 
virago  from  whom  the  more  delicate  humanity  of 
Shakspere  would  have  recoiled.  The  scene  in  which 
she  quarrels  with  Marfisa  about  Ruggiero  degrades 
her  in  our  eyes,  and  makes  us  feel  that  such  a  terma- 
gant might  prove  a  sorry  wife.2  It  was  almost  impos- 
sible to  combine  true  feminine  qualities  with  the  blood- 
thirst  of  an  Amazon.  Consequently  when,  just  before 
her  marriage,  she  snuffs  the  carnage  of  the  Saracens 
from  afar,  and  regrets  that  she  must  withhold  her  hand 
from  "  such  rich  spoil  of  slaughter  in  a  spacious  field," 
a  painful  sense  of  incongruity  is  left  upon  our  mind.3 
Marfisa,  who  remains -a  warrior  to  the  last,  and  who 
in  her  first  girlhood  had  preserved  her  virginity  by 
slaughtering  a  palace-full  of  Pagans,4  is  artistically 
justified  as  a  romantic  heroine.  But  Bradamante, 

1  See  above,  Part  i.  p.  510.  *  Canto  xxxvi.,  especially  stanza  50. 

3  Canto  xxxix.  10-15;  cp.  ib.  67-72.  «  Canto  xxxvii.  15. 


FEMALE   CHARACTERS.  39 

destined  to  become  a  mother,  gentle  in  her  home 
affections,  obedient  to  her  father's  wishes,  tremulous  in 
her  attachment  to  Ruggiero,  cannot  with  any  propriety 
be  compared  to  a  leopard  loosed  from  the  leash  upon 
defenseless  gazelles.1  Between  the  Amazonian  virgin 
and  the  mother  of  a  race  of  kings  to  be,  the  outline  of 
her  character  wavers. 

After  the  more  finished  portrait  of  Bradamante, 
we  find  in  Isabella  and  Fiordeligi,  the  lovers  of 
Zerbino  and  Brandimarte,  Ariosto's  purest  types  of 
feminine  affection.  The  cardinal  virtue  of  woman  in  his 
eyes  was  self-devotion — loyalty  to  the  death,  unhesitat- 
ing sacrifice  of  wealth,  ease,  reputation,  life,  to  the 
oae  object  of  passionate  attachment.  And  this  self- 
devotion  he  has  painted  in  Olimpia  no  less  roman- 
tically than  in  Isabella  and  Fiordeligi.  Still  it  must 
be  remembered  that  Isabella  had  eloped  with  Zerbino 
from  her  father's  palace,  that  Fiordeligi  was  only  a 
wife  in  name,  and  that  Olimpia  murdered  her  first 
husband  and  consoled  herself  very  rapidly  for  Bireno's 
loss  in  the  arms  of  Oberto.  The  poet  has  not  cared 
to  interweave  with  either  portrait  such  threads  of 
piety  and  purity  as  harmonize  the  self-abandonment 
of  Juliet.  Fiordespina's  ready  credence  of  the  absurd 
story  by  which  Ricciardetto  persuades  her  that  he 
is  Bradamante  metamorphosed  by  a  water-fairy  to  a 
man,  and  her  love  longings,  so  frankly  confessed,  so 
unblushingly  indulged,  illustrate  the  passion  Ariosto 
delighted  to  describe.  He  feels  a  tender  sympathy 
for  feminine  frailty,  and  in  more  than  one  exquisitely 
written  passage  claims  for  women  a  similar  license  in 

1  Canto  xxxix.  69. 


40  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

love  to  that  of  men.1  Indeed,  he  never  judges  a 
woman  severely,  unless  she  adds  to  her  want  of  chas- 
tity the  spitefulness  of  Gabrina  or  the  treachery  of 
Orrigille  or  the  cupidity  of  Argia  or  the  heartlessness 
of  Angelica.  Angelica,  who  in  the  Innamorato  touches 
our  feelings  by  her  tenderness  for  Rinaldo,  in  the 
Furioso  becomes  a  mere  coquette,  and  is  well  punished 
by  her  insane  passion  for  the  first  pretty  fellow  that 
takes  her  fancy.  The  common  faults  for  which  Ari- 
osto  taxes  women  are  cupidity,  infidelity,  and  fraud.2 
The  indulgence  due  to  them  from  men  is  almost  cynic- 
ally illustrated  by  the  story  of  Adonio  and  the  magic 
virtues  of  Merlin's  goblet.3  In  the  preface  to  the  fifth 
canto  he  condemns  the  brutality  of  husbands,  and  in  the 
tenth  he  recommends  ladies  to  be  free  of  their  favors 
to  none  but  middle-aged  lovers.4 

Ariosto's  morality  was  clearly  on  a  leveLwith-that 
of  the"  novelists  from  Boccaccio  to  Bandello;  and  his 
apology  is  that  he  was  not  inferior  to  the  standard  of 
his  age.  Still  it  is  not  much  to  his  credit  to  plead  that 
his  cantos  are  less  impure  than  the  Capitoli  of  Mon- 
signore  La  Casa  or  the  prurient  comedies  of  Aretino/ 
Even  allowing  for  the  laxity  of  Renaissance  manners, 
it  must  be  conceded  that  he  combined  vulgar  emotions 
and  a  coarse-fibered  nature  with  the  most  refined 
artistic  genius.6  Our  Elizabethan  drama,  in  spite  of 

1  See  especially  iv.  63*67. 

*  Introductions  to  cantos  xliii.  xxviii.  xxix.  xxii.  xxvi.;  cp.  xxvii.  123. 
»  Canto  xlii.  <  Stanzas  6-9. 

•  If  this  seems  over-stated,  I  might  refer  the  reader  to  the  prologue 
of  the  Suppositi,  where  the  worst  vice  of  the  Renaissance  is  treated  with 
a  flippant  relish;  or,  again,  to  the  prologue  of  the  Lena,  where  the  double 
entendre  is  worthy  of  the  grossest  Capitolo.     The  plots  of  all  Ariosto's 
comedies  are  of  a  vulgar,  obscene,  bourgeois  type. 


A  RIO S TO' S   MORAL   FEELING.  41 

moral  crudity,  contains  nothing  so  cynical  as  Ariosto's 
novel  of  Jocondo.  The  beauty  of  its  style,  the 
absence  of  tragedy  in  its  situations  or  of  passion  in  its 
characters,  and  the  humorous  smile  with  which  the 
poet  acts  as  showman  to  the  secrets  of  the  alcove, 
render  this  tale  one  of  the  most  licentious  in  literature. 
Nor  is  this  licentiousness  balanced  by  any  sublimer 
spiritual  quality.  His  ideal  of  manliness  is  physical 
force  and  animal  courage.  Cruelty  and  bloodshed  for 
the  sake  of  slaughter  stain  his  heroes.1  The  noblest 
conflict  of  emotion  he  portrays  is  the  struggle  between 
love  and  honor  in  Ruggiero,2  and  the  contest  of 
courtesy  between  Ruggiero  and  Leone.3  In  the  few 
passages  where  he  celebrates  the  chivalrous  ideal,  he 
dwells  chiefly  on  the  scorn  of  gain  and  the  contempt 
for  ease  which  characterized  the  errant  knighthood.4 

The  style  of  the  Furioso  is  said  to  have  taught 
Galileo  how  to  write  Italian.  This  style  won  from 
him  for  Ariosto  the  title  of  divine.  As  the  luminous 
and  flowing  octave  stanzas  pass  before  us,  we  are 
almost  tempted  to  forget  that  they  are  products  of 
deliberate  art.  The  beauty  of  their  form  consists 
in  its  limpidity  and  naturalness.  Ariosto  has  no 
mannerism.  He  always  finds  exactly  the  expression 
needed  to  give  clearness  to  the  object  he  presents. 
Whether  the  mood  be  elegiac .  or  satiric,  humorous  or 

1  See  xxxix.  10-72,  xx.  113,  xlvi.   137,  and  passim,  for  the  carnage 
wrought  by  knights  cased  in  enchanted  armor  with  invulnerable  bodies 
upon  defenseless  Saracens  or  unarmed  peasants.    It  was  partly  this  that 
made  Shelley  shrink  with  loathing  from  the  Furioso. 

2  Cantos  xxi.  1-3,  xx.  143,  xxxviii.  introduction,  xlv.  57,  xxv.  intro- 
duction. 3  Cantos  xliv.  xlv. 

4  Canto  vi.  80,  vii.  41-44.     The  sentiments,  though  superficial,  are 
exquisitely  uttered. 


41  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

heroic,  idyllic  or  rhetorical,  this  absolute  sincerity  and 

•  _    _         r -  _  i      i — — ~^— ——••—» — r 

directness  of  language  maintains  him  at  an  even__leveL. 
fif  each  case  he  has  given  the  right,  the  best,  the 
natural  investiture  to  thought,  and  his  phrases  have 
the  self-evidence  of  crystals.  Just  as  he  collected  the 
materials  of  his  poem  from  all  sources,  so  he  appro- 
priated every  word  that  seemed  to  serve  his  need. 
The  vocabulary  of  Dante,  Petrarch,  and  Boccaccio, 
the  racy  terms  of  popular  poetry,  together  with 
Latinisms  and  Lombardisms,  were  alike  laid  under 
contribution.  Yet  these  diverse  elements  were  so 
fused  together  and  brought  into  a  common  toning  by 
his  taste  that,  though  the  language  of  his  poem  was 
new,  it  was  at  once  accepted  as  classical.  When 
we  remember  the  difficulties  which  in  his  days  beset 
Italian  composition,  when  we  call  to  mind  the  frigid 
experiments  of  Bembo  in  Tuscan  diction,  the  meti- 
culous proprieties  of  critics  like  Speron  Speroni,  and 
the  warfare  waged  around  the  Gerusalemme  Liberata, 
we  know  not  whether  to  wonder  at  Ariosto's  happy 
audacities  in  language  or  at  their  still  happier  success. 
His  triumph  was  not  won  without  severe  labor. 
He  spent  ten  years  in  the  composition  of  the  Fnrioso 
and  sixteen^  in  its  polishing.  The  autograph  at 
Ferrara  shows  page  upon  page  of  alteration,  trans- 
position, and  refinement  on  the  first  draught,  proving 
that  the  Homeric  limpidity  and  ease  we  now  admire, 
were  gained  by  assiduous  self-criticism.  The  result  of 
this  long  toil  is  that  there  cannot  be  found  a  rough  or 
languid  or  inharmonious  passage  in  an  epic  of  5o,ooo 
lines.  If  we  do  not  discern  in  Ariosto  the  inexhaustible 
freshness  of  Homer,  the  sublime  music  of  Milton,  the 


PERFECTION   OF   STYLE.  43 

sculpturesque  brevity  of  Dante,  the  purity  of  Petrarch, 
or  the  majestic  sweetness  of  Virgilian  cadences,  it  can 
fairly  be  said  that  np__other  poet  is  so  varied.  None 
mingles  strength,  sweetness,  subtlety,  rapidity,  rhetoric, 
breadth  of  effect  and  delicacy  of  suggestion,  in  a 
harmony  so  perfect.  None  combines  workmanship  so 
artistic  with  a  facility  that  precludes  all  weariness. 
Whether  we  read  him  simply  to  enjoy  his  story  or  to 
taste  the  most  exquisite  flavors  of  poetic  diction,  we 
shall  be  equally  satisfied.  Language  in  his  hands  is 
like  a  soft  and  yielding  paste,  which  takes  all  forms 
beneath  the  molder's  hand,  and  then,  when  it  has 
hardened,  stays  for  ever  sharp  in  outline,  glittering  as 
adamant. 

While  following  the  romantic  method  of  Boiardo 
and  borrowing  the  polished  numbers  of  Poliziano,  Ari- 
osto  refined  the  stanzas  of  the  former  poet  without 
losing  rapidity,  and  avoided  the  stationary  pomp  of  the 
latter  without  sacrificing  richness.  He  thus  effected 
a  combination  of  the  two  chief  currents  of  Italian 
versification,  and  brought  the  octave  to  its  final  perfec- 
tion. When  we  study  the  passage  which  describes 
the  entrance  of  Ruggiero  into  the  island^  home  of 
Alcina,  we  feel  the  advance  in  melody  and  movement 
that  he  made.  We  are  reminded  of  the  gardens  of 
Morgana  and  Venus;  but  both  are  surpassed  in  their 
own  qualities  of  beauty,  while  the  fluidity  that  springs 
from  complete  command  of  the  material,  is  added. 
Such  touches  as  the  following1: 

Pensier  canuto  n£  molto  n£  poco 
Si  pub  quivi  albergare  in  alcun  core: 

i  Canto  vi.  73. 


44  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

are  wholly  beyond  the  scope  of  Boiardo's  style.  Again, 
this  stanza,  without  the  brocaded  splendor  of  Poli- 
ziano,  contains  all  that  he  derived  from  Claudian1: 

Per  le  cime  dei  pini  e  degli  allori, 
Degli  alti  faggi  e  degli  irsuti  abeti, 
Volan  scherzando  i  pargoletti  Amori; 
Di  lor  vittorie  altri  godendo  lieti, 
Altri  pigliando  a  saettare  i  cori 
La  mira  quindi,  altri  tendendo  reti: 
Chi  tempra  dardi  ad  un  ruscel  pid  basso, 
E  chi  gli  aguzza  ad  un  volubil  sasso. 

Raphael,  Correggio  and  Titian  have  succeeded  to  Bot- 
ticelli and  Mantegna;  and  as  those  supreme  painters 
fused  the  several  excellences  of  their  predecessors  in  a 
fully-developed  work  of  art,  so  has  Ariosto  passed 
beyond  his  masters  in  the  art  of  poetry.  Nor  was 
the  process  one  of  mere  eclecticism.  Intent  upon 
similar  aims,  the  final  artists  of  the  early  sixteenth 
century  brought  the  same  profound  sentiment  for 
reality,  the  same  firm  grasp  on  truth,  the  same  vivid 
imagination  as  their  precursors  to  the  task.  But  they 
possessed  surer  hands  and  a  more  accomplished 
method.  They  stood  above  their  subject  and  surveyed 
it  from  the  height  of  conscious  power. 

After  the  island  of  Alcina,  it  only  remained  foi 
Tasso  to  produce  novelty  in  his  description  of  Ar- 
mida's  gardens  by  pushing  one  of  Ariosto's  qualities 
to  exaggeration.  The  dolcezza,  which  in  Tasso  is  too 
sugared,  has  in  Ariosto  the  fine  flavor  of  wild  honey- 
combs. In  the  tropical  magnificence  of  Tasso's  stan- 
zas there  is  a  sultry  stupor  which  the  fresh  sunlight 

1  Canto  vi.  75. 


ARIOSTO^S   PREDECESSORS   AND    SUCCESSORS. 


45 


of  the  Fzirioso  never  sheds.  This  wilding  grace  of 
the  Ferrarese  Homer  is  due  to  the  lightness  of  his 
touch — to  the  blending  of  humorous  with  luxurious 
images  in  a  style  that  passes  swiftly  over  all  it  paints.1 
After  a  like  fashion,  the  idyl  of  Angelica  among  the 
shepherds  surpasses  the  celebrated  episode  of  Erminia 
in  the  Gerusalemme.  It  is  not  that  Tasso  has  not  in- 
vented a  new  music  and  wrung  a  novel  effect  from  the 
situation  by  the  impassioned  fervor  of  his  sympathy 
and  by  the  majestic  languor  of  his  cadences.  But  we 
feel  that  what  Tasso  relies  on  for  his  main  effect, 
Ariosto  had  already  suggested  in  combination  with 
other  and  still  subtler  qualities.  The  one  has  the 
overpowering  perfume  of  a  hothouse  jasmine ;  the 
other  has  the  mingled  scents  of  a  garden  where  roses 
and  carnations  are  in  bloom. 

Ariosto's  pictorial  faculty  has  already  formed  the 
topic  of  a  paragraph,  nor  is  it  necessary  to  adduce 
instances  of  what  determines  the  whole  character  of 
the  Orlando  Furioso.  Otherwise  it  would  be  easy  to 
form  a  gallery  of  portraits  and  landscapes ;  to  compare 
the  double  treatment  of  Andromeda  exposed  to  the 
sea  monster  in  the  tenth  and  eleventh  cantos,2  to  set  a 
pageant  in  the  style  of  Mantegna  by  the  side  of  a 
Correggiesque  vignette,3  or  to  enlarge  upon  the  beauty 
of  those  magical  Renaissance  buildings  which  the  poet 
dreamed  of  in  the  midst  of  verdant  lawns  and  flowery 
wildernesses.4  True  to  the  spirit  of  Italian  art,  he  had 

1  Notice,  for  example,  the  irony  of  the  seventh  line  in  vi.  71,  and  of 
the  third  and  fourth  in  the  next  stanza. 

8  Canto  x.  95,  96,  xi.  65,  66.    The  one  is  Angelica,  the  other  Olimpia. 

3  Canto  vi.  62,  63,  75. 

4  Canto  vi.  71,  xxxiv.  51-53. 


46  £**  ^        RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

no  strong  sentiment  for  nature  except  in  connection  with 
Immunity.  Thrrrfore  we  find  but  little  of  landscape- 
painting  for  its  own  sake  and  small  sympathy  with  the 
wilder  and  uncultivated  beauties  of  the  world.  His 
scenery  recalls  the  backgrounds  to  Carpaccio's  pictures 
or  the  idyllic  gardens  of  the  Giorgionesque  school. 
Sometimes  there  is  a  magnificent  drawing  in  the  style 
of  Titian's  purple  mountain  ranges,  and  here  and  there 
we  come  upon  minutely  finished  studies  that  imply 
deep  feeling  for  the  moods  of  nature.  Of  this  sort 
is  the  description  of  autumn l : 

Tra  il  fin  d'  ottobre  e  il  capo  di  novembre, 
Nella  stagion  che  la  frondosa  vesta 
Vede  levarsi,  e  discoprir  le  membre, 
Trepida  pianta,  finche  nuda  resta, 
E  van  gli  augelli  a  strette  schiere  insembre. 

The  illuminative  force  of  his  similes  is  quite  extra- 
ordinary. He  uses  them  not  only  as  occasions  for 
painting  cabinet  pictures  of  exquisite  richness,  but  also 
for  casting  strong  imaginative  light  upon  the  object 
under  treatment.  In  the  earlier  part  of  the  Furioso  he 
describes  two  battles  with  a  huge  sea  monster.  The 
Ore  is  a  kind  of  romantic  whale,  such  as  Piero  di 
Cosimo  painted  in  his  tale  of  Andromeda;  and  Rug- 
giero  has  to  fight  it  first,  while  riding  on  the  Hippo- 
griff.  It  is  therefore  necessary  for  Ariosto  to  image 
forth  a  battle  between  behemoth  and  a  mighty  bird. 
He  does  so  by  elaborately  painting  the  more  familiar 
struggles  of  an  eagle  who  has  caught  a  snake,  and  of  a 
mastiff  snapping  at  a  fly.2  At  the  same  time  he  adds 
realistic  touches  like  the  following : 

'  Canto  ix.  7.  2  Canto  x.  102-106. 


USE    OF  SIMILES.  47 

L'  orca,  che  vede  sotto  le  grandi  ale 
L'  ombra  di  qua  e  di  la.  correr  su  1'  onda, 
Lascia  la  precla  certa  littorale, 
E  quella  vana  segue  furibonda. 

Or,  again,  when  Ruggiero  is  afraid  of  wetting  his 
aerial  courser's  wings : 

ChS  se  lo  sprazzo  in  tal  modo  ha  a  durare, 
Teme  si  1'  ale  innaffi  all'  Ippogrifo, 
Che  brami  invano  avere  o  zucca  o  schifo. 

The  mixture  of  imagery  with  prosaic  detail  brings 
the  whole  scene  distinctly  before  our  eyes.  When 
Orlando  engages  the  same  monster,  he  is  in  a  boat,  and 
the  conditions  of  the  contest  are  altered.  Accordingly 
we  have  a  different  set  of  similes.  A  cloud  that  fills  a 
valley,  rolling  to  and  fro  between  the  mountain  sides, 
describes  the  movement  of  the  Ore  upon  the  waters; 
and  when  Orlando  thrusts  his  anchor  in  between  its 
jaws  to  keep  them  open,  he  is  compared  to  miners 
propping  up  their  galleries  with  beams  in  order  that 
they  may  pursue  their  work  in  safety.1  In  this  way  we 
realize  the  formidable  nature  of  the  beast,  and  compre- 
hend the  stratagem  that  tames  it  to  Orlando's  will. 

The  same  nice  adaptation  of  images  may  be  noticed 
in  the  similes  showered  on  Rodomonte.  The  giant  is 
alone  inside  the  walls  of  Paris,  and  the  poet  is  bound 
to  make  us  feel  that  a  whole  city  may  have  cause  to 
tremble  before  a  single  man.  Therefore  he  never 
leaves  our  fancy  for  a  moment  in  repose.  At  one  time 
it  is  a  castle  shaken  by  a  storm ;  at  another  a  lion  re- 
treating before  the  hunters;  again,  a  tigress  deprived  of 
her  cubs,  or  a  bull  that  has  broken  from  the  baiting- 

i  Canto  xi.  34-38. 


48  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

pole,  or  the  whelps  of  a  lioness  attacking  a  fierce  young 
steer.1  Image  succeeds  image  with  dazzling  rapidity, 
all  tending  to  render  a  strained  situation  possible. 

Some  of  Ariosto's  illustrations — like  the  plowman 
and  the  thunderbolt,  the  two  dogs  fighting,  the  powder 
magazine  struck  by  lightning,  the  house  on  fire  at  night, 
the  leaves  of  autumn,  the  pine  that  braves  a  tempest, 
the  forest  bending  beneath  mighty  winds,  the  April 
avalanche  of  suddenly  dissolving  snow — though  wrought 
with  energy  and  spirit,  have  not  more  than  the  usual 
excellences  of  carefully  developed  Homeric  imitation.2 
Framed  in  single  octave  stanzas,  they  are  pictures  for 
the  mind  to  rest  on.  Others  illuminate  the  matter  they 
are  used  to  illustrate,  with  the  radiance  of  subtle  and 
remote  fancy.  Of  this  sort  is  the  brief  image  by  which 
the  Paladins  in  Charlemagne's  army  are  likened  to 
jewels  in  a  cloth  of  gold 3 : 

Ed  hanno  i  paladin  sparsi  tra  loro, 
Come  le  gem  me  in  un  ricamo  d'  oro. 

A  common  metaphor  takes  new  beauty  by  its  handling 
in  this  simile4; 

Pallido  come  colto  al  mattutino 

E  da  sera  il  ligustro  o  il  molle  acanto. 

Homer  had  compared  the  wound  of  Menelaus  to  ivory 
stained  by  a  Maeonian  woman  with  crimson.5  Ariosto 
refines  on  this  conceit6: 

Cosl  talora  un  bel  purpureo  nastro 
Ho  veduto  partir  tela  d'  argento 

'  Canto  xviii.  u,  14,  19,  22,  35. 

•  Canto  i.  65,  ii.  5,  ix.  78,  xx.  89,  xxi.  15,  16,  xxiv.  63,  xxxvi.  40. 

»  Canto  xxxix.  17.  *  Canto  xliii.  169.  »  Iliad,  iv.  140. 

•  Canto  xx  iv.  66. 


ARIOSTO    AND   HIS   AGE.  49 

Da  quella  bianca  man  piu  ch'  alabastro, 
Da  cui  partire  il  cor  spesso  mi  sento. 

Both  Homer  and  Virgil  likened' their  dying  heroes  to 
flowers  cut  down  by  the  tempest  or  the  plow.  The 
following  passage  will  bear  comparison  even  with  the 
death  of  Euphorbus: l 

Come  purpureo  fior  lariguendo  muore, 
Che  '1  vomere  al  passar  tagliato  lassa, 
O  come  carco  di  superchio  umore 
II  papaver  nell'  orto  il  capo  abbassa: 
Cosi,  gill  della  faccia  ogni  colore 
Cadendo,  Dardinel  di  vita  passa; 
Passa  di  vita,  e  fa  passar  con  lui 
L'  ardire  e  la  virtu  di  tutti  i  sui. 

One  more  example  may  be  chosen  where  Ariosto 
has  borrowed  nothing  from  any  model.  He  uses  the 
perfume  that  clings  to  the  hair  or  dress  of  youth  or 
maiden,  as  a  metaphor  for  the  aroma  of  noble  an- 
cestry2: 

L'  odor  ch'  e  sparso  in  ben  notrita  e  bella 
O  chioma  o  barba  o  delicata  vesta 
Di  giovene  leggiadro  o  di  donzella, 
Ch'  amor  sovente  sospirando  desta; 
Se  spira,  e  fa  sentir  di  se  novella, 
E  dopo  molti  giorni  ancora  resta, 
Mostra  con  chiaro  ed  evidente  effetto, 
Come  a  principio  buono  era  e  perfetto. 

The  unique  importance  of  Ariosto  in  the  history 
of  Renaissance  poetry  justifies  a  lengthy  examination 
of  his  masterpiece.  In  him  the  chief  artistic  forces  of 
the  age  were  so  combined  that  he  remains  its  best  in- 
terpreter. Painting,  the  cardinal  art  of  Italy,  deter- 
mined his  method;  and  the  tide  of  his  narrative  car- 

1  Canto  xviii.  153.  *  Canto  xli.  I. 


50  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

ried__wjllL-it  the-  idyl,  the  elegy,  and  \ho._jwvell_a.  In 
these  forms  the  genius  of  the  Renaissance  found  fittest 
literary  expression;  for  the  epic  and  the  drama  lay  be- 
yond the  scope  of  the  Italians  at  this  period.  The 
defect  of  deep  passion  and  serious  thought,  the  absence 
of  enthusiasm,  combined  with  rare  analytic  powers  and 
an  acute  insight  into  human  nature,  placed  Ariosto  in 
close  relation  to  his  age.  Free  from  illusions,  strug- 
gling after  no  high-set  ideal,  accepting  the  world  as  he 
found  it,  without  the  impulse  to  affirm  or  to  deny, 
without  hate,  scorn,  indignation  or  revolt,  he  repre- 
sented the  spirit  of  the  sixteenth  century  in  those 
qualities  which  were  the  source  of  moral  and  political 
decay  to  the  Italians.  But  he  also  embodied  the  strong 
points  of  his  epoch — especially  that  sustained  pursuit 
of  beauty  in  form,  that  width  of  intellectual  sympathy, 
that  urbanity  of  tone  and  delicacy  of  perception,  which 
rendered  Italy  the  mistress^H^j^  arts,  the  propagator 
of  culture  for  the  rest  of  Europe. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE    NOVELLIERI. 

Boccaccio's  Legacy — Social  Conditions  of  Literature  in  Italy — Importance 
of  the  Novella — Definition  of  the  Novella — Method  of  the  Novelists 
— Their  Style — Materials  used — Large  Numbers  viNo-velle  in  Print — 
Lombard  and  Tuscan  Species  —  Introductions  to  II  Lasca's  Cene, 
Parabosco's  Diporti — Bandello's  Dedications — Life  of  Bandello — His 
Moral  Attitude — Bandello  as  an  Artist — Comparison  of  Bandello  and 
Fletcher — The  Tale  of  Gerardo  and  Elena — Romeo  and  "Juliet — The 
Tale  otNicuola — The  Countess  of  Salisbury — Bandello's  Apology  for 
his  Morals  and  his  Style — II  Lasca — Mixture  of  Cruelty  and  Lust — 
Extravagant  Situations — Treatment  of  the  Parisina  Motive — The 
Florentine  Burla — Apology  for  II  Lasca's  Repulsiveness— Firenzuola 
— His  Life — His  Satires  on  the  Clergy — His  Dialogue  on  Beauty — 
Novelettes  and  Poems — Doni's  Career — His  Bizarre  Humor — Bohe- 
mian Life  at  Venice — The  Pellegrini — His  Novelle — Miscellaneous 
Works — The  Marmi — The  Novelists  of  Siena — Their  specific  Char- 
acter— Sermini  —  Fortini  —  Bargagli's  Description  of  the  Siege  of 
Siena — Illicini's  Novel  of  Angelica — The  Proverbi  of  Cornazano — The 
Notti  Piacevoli  of  Straparola — The  Novel  of  Belphegor — Straparola 
and  Machiavelli — Giraldi  C'mi\\\os't[ecatommithi — Description  of  the 
Sack  of  Rome — Plan  of  the  Collection — The  Legend  of  the  Borgias — 
Comparison  of  Italian  Novels  and  English  Plays. 

OF  Boccaccio's  legacy  the  most  considerable  portion, 
and  the  one  that  bore  the  richest  fruit,  was  the  De- 
cameron. During  the  sixteenth  century  the  Novella, 
as  he  shaped  it,  continued  to  be  a  popular  and  widely 
practiced  form  of  literature.  In  Italy  the  keynote  of 
the  Renaissance  was  struck  by  the  Novella,  as  in 
England  by  the  Drama.  Nor  is  this  predominance  of 
what  must  be  reckoned  a  subordinate  branch  of  fiction, 
altogether  singular;  for  the  Novella  was  in  a  special 


52  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

sense  adapted  to  the  public  which  during  the  Age  of 
the  Despots  grew  up  in  Italy.  Since  the  fourteenth 
century  the  conditions  of  social  life  had  undergone  a 
thorough  revolution.  Under  the  influence  of  dynastic 
rulers  stationed  in  great  cities,  merchants  and  manu- 
facturers were  confounded  with  the  old  nobility;  and 
in  commonwealths  like  Florence  the  bourgeoisie  gave 
their  tone  to  society.  At  the  same  time  the  com- 
munity thus  formed  was  separated  from  the  people  by 
the  bar  of  humanistic  culture.  Literature  felt  this 
social  transformation.  Its  products  were  shaped  to 
suit  the  taste  of  the  middle  classes,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  amuse  the  leisure  of  the  aristocracy.  The 
Novella  was  the  natural  outcome  of  these  circumstances. 
Its  qualities  and  its  defects  alike  betray  the  ascendency 
of  the  bourgeois  element. 

When  a  whole  nation  is  addressed  in  drama  or 
epic,  it  is  necessary  for  the  poet  to  strike  a  lofty  and 
noble  note.  He  appeals  to  collective  humanity,  and 
there  is  no  room  for  aught  that  savors  of  the  trivial 
and  base.  Homer  and  ^Sophocles,  Dante  and  Shak- 
spere,  owed  their  grandeur  in  no  slight  measure  to  the 
audience  for  whom  they  labored.  The  case  is  altered 
when  a  nation  comes  to  be  divided  into  orders,  each  of 
which  has  its  own  peculiar  virtues  and  its  own  beset- 
ting sins.  Limitations  are  of  necessity  introduced,  and 
deflections  from  the -canon  of  universality  are  wel- 
comed. If  the  poet,  for  example,  writes  for  the 
lowest  classes  of  society,  he  can  afford  to  be  coarse, 
but  he  must  be  natural.  An  aristocracy,  taken  by 
itself,  is  apt,  on  the  contrary,  to  demand  from  literature 
the  refinements  of  fashionable  vice  and  the  subtleties 


ITALIAN  BOURGEOISIE. 


53 


of  artificial  sentiment.  Under  such  influence  we 
obtain  the  Arthurian  legends  of  the  later  middle  ages, 
which  contrast  unfavorably,  in  all  points  of  simplicity 
and  directness,  with  the  earlier  Niebelungen  and 
Carolingian  Cycles.  The  middle  classes,  for  their 
part,  delight  in  pictures  of  daily  life,  presented  with 
realism,  and  flavored  with  satire  that  touches  on  the 
points  of  their  experience.  Literature  produced  to 
please  the  bourgeois,  must  be  sensible  and  positive; 
and  its  success  will  greatly  depend  upon  the  piquancy 
of  its  appeal  to  ordinary  unidealized  appetites.  The 
Italians  lacked  such  means  of  addressing  the  aggre- 
gated masses  of  the  nation  as  the  panhellenic  festi- 
vals of  Greece  afforded.  The  public  which  gave  its 
scale  of  grandeur  and  sincerity  to  the  Attic  and 
Elizabethan  drama,  was  wanting.  The  literature  of 
the  tinque  cento,  though  it  owed  much  to  the  justice 
of  perception  and  simple  taste  of  the  true  people,  was 
composed  for  the  most  part  by  men  of  middle  rank 
for  the  amusement  of  citizens  and  nobles.  It  partook 
of  those  qualities  which  characterize  the  upper  and 
middle  classes.  It  was  deficient  in  the  breadth,  the 
magnitude,  the  purity,  which  an  audience  composed 
of  the  whole  nation  can  alone  communicate.  We  find 
it  cynical,  satirical,  ingenious  in  sly  appeals  to  appetite, 
and  oftentimes  superfluously  naughty.  Above  all  it  was 
emphatically  the  literature  of  a  society  confined  to  cities. 
It  may  be  difficult  to  decide  what  special  quality  of 
the  Italian  temperament  was  satisfied  with  the  Novella. 
Yet  the  fact  remains  that  this  species  of  composition 
largely  governed  their  production,  not  only  in  the  field 
of  narrative,  but  also  in  the  associated  region  of  poetry 


54  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

and  in  the  plastic  arts.  So  powerful  was  the  attraction 
it  possessed,  that  even  the  legends  of  the  saints 
assumed  this  character.  A  notable  portion  of  the 
Sacre  Rappresentazioni  were  dramatized  Novelle.  The 
romantic  poets  interwove  Novelle  with  their  main 
theme,  and  the  charm  of  the  Orlando  Furioso  is  due 
in  no  small  measure  to  such  episodes.  Popular 
poems  of  the  type  represented  by  Ginevra  degli  Al- 
mieri  were  versified  Novelle.  Celebrated  trials,  like 
that  of  the  Countess  of  Cellant,  Vittoria  Accoramboni, 
or  the  Cenci,  were  offered  to  the  people  in  the  form 
of  Novelle.  The  humanists — Pontano,  Poggio,  yEneas 
Sylvius — wrote  Novelle  in  Latin.  The  best  serial  pic- 
tures of  the  secondary  painters — whether  we  select 
Benozzo  Gozzoli's  legend  of  S.  Augustine  at  San 
Gemignano,  or  Carpaccio's  legend  of  S.  Ursula  at 
Venice,  or  Sodoma's  legend  of  S.  Benedict  at  Monte 
Oliveto,  or  Lippo  Lippi's  legend  of  S.  John  at  Prato — 
are  executed  in  the  spirit  of  the  novelists.  They  are 
Novelle  painted  in  their  salient  incidents  for  the  laity 
to  study  on  the  walls  of  church  and  oratory. 

The  term  Novella  requires  definition,  lest  the  thing 
in  question  should  be  confounded  with  our  modern 
novel.  Although  they  bear  the  same  name,  these 
species  have  less  in  common  than  might  be  supposed. 
Both,  indeed,  are  narratives;  but  while  the  novel  is  a 
history  extending  over  a  considerable  space  of  time, 
embracing  a  complicated  tissue  of  events,  and  necessi- 
tating a  study  of  character,  the  Novella  is  invariably 
brief  and  sketchy.  It  does  not  aim  at  presenting  a 
detailed  picture  of  human  life  within  certain  artistically 
chosen  limitations,  but  confines  itself  to  a  striking 


DEFINITION   OF    THE   NOVELLA.  55 

situation,  or  tells  an  anecdote  illustrative  of  some 
moral  quality.  This  is  shown  by  the  headings  of  the 
sections  into  which  Italian  Novellieri  divided  their 
collections.  We  read  such  rubrics  as  the  following: 
"  On  the  magnanimity  of  princes  "  ;  "  Concerning  those 
who  have  been  fortunate  in  love";  "Of  sudden  changes 
from  prosperity  to  evil  fortune" ;  "The  guiles  of  women 
practiced  on  their  husbands."  A  theme  is  proposed, 
and  the  Novelle  are  intended  to  exemplify  it. '  The 
Novelle  were  descended  in  a  direct  line  from  the  anec- 
dotes embedded  in  medieval  Treasuries,  Bestiaries, 
and  similar  collections.  The  novel,  on  the  other 
hand,  as  Cervantes,  Richardson,  and  Fielding  formed 
it  for  the  modern  nations,  is  an  expansion  and  prose 
digest  of  the  drama.  It  implies  the  drama  as  a 
previous  condition  of  its  being,  and  flourishes  among 
races  gifted  with  the  dramatic  faculty. 

Furthermore,  the  Novelle  were  composed  for  the 
amusement  of  mixed  companies,  who  met  together  and 
passed  their  time  in  conversation.  All  the  Novellieri 
pretend  that  their  stories  were  originally  recited  and 
then  written  down,  nor  is  there  the  least  doubt  that  in 
a  large  majority  of  cases  they  were  really  read  aloud 
or  improvised  upon  occasions  similar  to  those  invented 
by  their  authors.  These  circumstances  determined 
the  length  and  ruled  the  mechanism  of  the  Novella. 
It  was  impossible  within  the  short  space  of  a  spoken 
tale  to  attempt  any  minute  analysis  of  character,  or  to 
weave  the  meshes  of  a  complicated  plot.  The  narrator 
went  straight  to  his  object,  which  was  to  arrest  the 
attention,  stimulate  the  curiosity,  gratify  the  sensual 
instincts,  excite  the  laughter,  or  stir  the  tender  emotions 


56  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

of  his  audience  by  some  fantastic,  extraordinary,  volup- 
tuous, comic,  or  pathetic  incident.  He  sketched  his 
personages  with  a  few  swift  touches,  set  forth  their 
circumstances  with  pungent  brevity,  and  expended  his 
force  upon  the  painting  of  the  central  motive.  Some- 
times he  contented  himself  with  a  bare  narrative, 
leaving  its  details  to  the  fancy. '  Many  Novelle  are  the 
mere  skeletons  of  stories,  short  notes,  and  epitomes  of 
tales.  At  another  time  he  indulged  in  descriptive 
passages  of  great  verbal  beauty,  when  it  was  his 
purpose  to  delight  the  ideal  audience  with  pictures,  or 
to  arouse  their  sympathy  for  his  characters  in  a  situa- 
tion of  peculiar  vividness.  Or  he  introduced  digres- 
sions upon  moral  themes  suggested  by  the  passion  of 
the  moment,  discoursing  with  the  easy  flow  of  one  who 
raises  points  of  casuistry  in  a  drawing-room.  Again, 
he  heightened  the  effects  of  his  anecdote  by  elaborate 
rhetorical  development  of  the  main  emotions,  placing 
carefully-studied  speeches  into  the  mouth  of  heroine  or 
hero,  and  using  every  artifice  for  appealing  directly  to 
the  feelings  of  his  hearers.  '  Thus,  while  the  several 
Novellieri  pursue  different  methods  at  different  times 
according  to  their  purpose,  their  styles. are  all  deter- 
mined by  the  fact  that  recitation  was  essential  to  the 
species.  All  of  them,  moreover,  have  a  common 
object  in  amusement.  Though  the  Novellieri  profess  to 
teach  morality  by  precept,  and  though  some  of  them 
prefix  prayers  to  their  most  impudent  debauches  of 
the  fancy,1  it  is  clear  that  entertainment  was  their  one 

1  See  Bandello's  Introduction  to  Nov.  xxxv.  of  Part  i.,  where  a  most 
disgusting  story  is  ushered  in  with  ethical  reflections;  and  take  this  pas- 
sage from  the  opening  of  one  of  II  Lasca's  least  presentable  novels: 
"Prima  che  al  novellare  di  questa  sera  si  dia  principio,  mi  rivolgo  a  te, 


TONE   AND    STRUCTURE    OF  NOVELLE.  57 

sole  end  in  view.  For  their  success  they  relied  on  the 
novelty  and  strangeness  of  their  incidents;  on  ob- 
scenity, sometimes  veiled  beneath  the  innuendoes  and 
suggestive  metaphors  of  Italian  convention,  but  more 
often  unabashed  and  naked  to  the  view;  on  startling 
horrors,  acts  of  insane  passion,  or  the  ingenuities  of 
diabolical  cruelty.  .  The  humor  of  beffe  and  burle, 
jests  played  by  rogues  on  simpletons,  practical  jokes, 
and  the  various  devices  whereby  wives  and  lovers 
fooled  confiding  husbands,  supplied  abundant  material 
for  relieving  the  more  tragic  stories.  Lastly,  the 
wide  realm  of  pathos,  the  spectacle  of  beauty  in 
distress,  young  lovers  overwhelmed  by  undeserved 
calamity,  sudden  reverses  of  fortune,  and  accidents  of 
travel  upon  land  and  sea,  provided  the  narrator  with 
plentiful  matter  for  working  on  the  sympathy  of  his 
readers.  Of  moral  purpose  in  any  strict  sense  of  the 
phrase  the  Novelle  have  none.  This  does  not  mean 
that  they  are  invariably  immoral;  on  the  contrary, 
the  theme  of  a  considerable  number  is  such  that  the 
tale  can  be  agreeably  told  without  violence  to  the 
most  sensitive  taste.  But  the  novelist  had  no  ethical 
intention ;  therefore  he  brought  every  motive  into 
use  that  might  amuse  or  stimulate,  with  business-like 
indifference.  He  felt  no  qualm  of  conscience  at  pro- 
voking the  cruder  animal  instincts,  at  dragging  the 
sanctities  of  domestic  life  in  the  mire  of  his  buffoonery, 
or  at  playing  on  the  appetite  for  monstrous  vice,  the 

Dio  ottimo  e  grandissimo,  che  solo  tutto  sai  e  tutto  puoi,  pregandoti  di- 
votamente  e  di  cuore,  che  per  la  tua  infinita  bonta  e  clemenza  mi  con- 
ceda,  e  a  tutti  quest!  altri  che  dopo  me  diranno,  tanto  del  tuo  ajuto  e  della 
tua  grazia,  che  la  mia  lingua  e  la  loro  non  dica  cosa  niuna,  se  non  a  tua 
lode  e  a  nostra  consolazione." — Le  Cene  (Firenze,  Lemonnier,  1857),  p.  7- 


58  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

thirst  for  abnormal  sensations,  in  his  audience.  So 
long  as  he  could  excite  attention,  he  was  satisfied. 
We  cannot  but  wonder  at  the  customs  of  a  society 
which  derived  its  entertainment  from  these  tales,  when 
we  know  that  noble  ladies  listened  to  them  without 
blushing,  and  that  bishops  composed  them  as  a  grace- 
ful compliment  to  the  daughter  of  a  reigning  duke.1 

In  style  the  Novelle  are,  as  might  be  expected,  very 
unequal.  Everybody  tried  his  hand  at  them:  some 
wrote  sparkling  Tuscan,  others  a  dense  Lombard  dia- 
lect; some  were  witty,  others  dull.  Yet  all  affected 
to  be  following  Boccaccio.  His  artificial  periods  and 
rhetorical  amplifications,  ill-managed  by  men  of  imper- 
fect literary  training,  who  could  not  free  themselves  from 
local  jargons,  produced  an  awkward  mixture  of  discor- 
dant faults.  Yet  the  public  expected  little  from  the 
novelist  in  diction.  What  they  required  was  move- 
ment, stimulus,  excitement  of  their  passions.  So  long 
as  the  tale-maker  kept  curiosity  awake,  it  was  a  matter 
of  comparative  indifference  what  sort  of  words  he  used. 
The  Novella  was  a  literary  no-man's-land,  where  the 
critic  exercised  a  feeble  sway,  and  amateurs  or  artists 
did  what  each  found  suited  to  his  powers.  It  held  its 
ground  under  conditions  similar  to  those  which  deter- 
mined the  supply  of  plays  among  us  in  the  seventeenth 
century,  or  of  magazine  novels  in  this. 

'  It  may  be  mentioned  that  not  all  stories  were  recited  before  women. 
Bandello  introduces  one  of  his  tales  with  the  remark  that  in  the  absence 
of  the  ladies  men  may  be  less  careful  in  their  choice  of  themes  (Nov.  xxx. 
pt.  i.).  The  exception  is  singular,  as  illustrating  what  was  thought  unfit 
for  female  ears.  The  Novella  itself  consists  of  a  few  jokes  upon  a  dis- 
gusting subject;  but  it  is  less  immodest  than  many  which  he  dedicated 
to  noble  women. 


STYLE   AND   MATERIAL.  59 

In  their  material  the  Novelle  embraced  the  whole 
of  Italian  society,  furnishing  pictures  of  its  life  and 
manners  from  the  palaces  of  princes-  to  the  cottages  of 
contadini.  Every  class  is  represented — the  man  of 
books,  the  soldier,  the  parish  priest,  the  cardinal,  the 
counter-jumper,  the  confessor,  the  peasant,  the  duke, 
the  merchant,  the  noble  lady,  the  village  maiden,  the 
serving-man,  the  artisan,  the  actor,  the  beggar,  the 
courtesan,  the  cut-throat,  the  astrologer,  the  lawyer, 
the  physician,  the  midwife,  the  thief,  the  preacher,  the 
nun,  the  pander,  the  fop,  the  witch,  the  saint,  the 
galley-slave,  the  friar — they  move  before  us  in  a  motley 
multitude  like  the  masquerade  figures  of  carnival  time, 
jostling  each  other  in  a  whirl  of  merriment  and  passion, 
mixing  together  in  the  frank  democracy  of  vice. 
Though  these  pictures  of  life  are  brightly  colored  and 
various  beyond  description,  they  are  superficial.  '  It  is 
only  the  surface  of  existence  that  the  Novelliere  touches. 
He  leaves  its  depths  unanalyzed,  except  when  he 
plunges  a  sinister  glance  into  some  horrible  abyss  of 
cruelty  or  lust,  or,  stirred  by  gentler  feeling,  paints  an 
innocent  unhappy  youthful  love.  The  student  of  con- 
temporary Italian  customs  will  glean  abundant  infor- 
mation from  these  pages;  the  student  of  human  nature 
gathers  little  except  reflections  on  the  morals  of  six- 
teenth-century society.  It  was  perhaps  this  prodigal 
superfluity  of  striking  incident,  in  combination  with 
poverty  of  intellectual  content,  which  made  the  Novelle 
so  precious  to  our  playwrights.  '  The  tales  of  Cinthio 
and  Bandello  supplied  them  with  the  outlines  of  trage- 
dies, leaving  the  poet  free  to  exercise  his  analytic  and 
imaginative  powers  upon  the  creation  of  character  and 


60  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

the  elaboration  of  motive.  But  that  in  spite  of  all 
their  faults,  the  Novelle  fascinate  the  fancy  and  stimu- 
late the  mental  energies,  will  be  admitted  by  all  who 
have  made  them  the  subject  of  careful  study.  / 

To  render  an  adequate  account  of  the  Novellieri 
and  their  works  is  very  difficult.1  The  printing-press 
poured  novels  forth  in  every  town  in  Italy,  and  authors 
of 'all  districts  vied  with  one  another  in  their  compo- 
sition. At  Florence  Firenzuola  penned  stories  with 
the  golden  fluency  and  dazzling  wealth  of  phrase 
peculiar  to  him.  II  Lasca's  Cene  rank  among  the  most 
considerable  literary  products  of  the  age.  At  Florence 
again,  Machiavelli  wrote  Belphegor,(  and  Scipione 
Bargagli  printed  his  Trattenimenti.  Gentile  Sermini, 
Pietro  Fortini  and  Giustiniano  Nelli  were  the  novel- 
ists of  Siena;  Masuccio  and  Antonio  Mariconda,  of 
Naples.  At  Rome  the  Modenese  Francesco  Maria 
Molza  rivaled  the  purity  of  Tuscan  in  his  Decamerone. 
But  it  was  chiefly  in  the  North  of  Italy  that  novelists 
abounded.  Giraldi's  hundred  tales,  entitled  Hecatom- 
mithi,  issued  from  Ferrara.  They  were  heavy  in 
style,  and  prosaic;  yet  their  matter  made  them  widely 
popular.  Sabadino  wrote  his  Porretane  at  Bologna, 
and  Francesco  Straparola  of  Caravaggio  published  his 
Tredici  piacevoli  Notti  at  Venice.  There  also  ap- 
peared the  Diporti  of  Girolamo  Parabosco,  the  Set 
Giornate  of  Sebastiano  Erizzo,  Celio  Malespini's  Du- 
cento  Novelle,  and  the  Proverbi  of  Antonio  Corna- 
zano.  Cademosto  of  Lodi,  Monsignor  Brevio  of 
Venice,  Ascanio  de'  Mori  of  Mantua,  Luigi  da  Porto 

1 1  Novellieri  in  Prosa,  by  Giambattista  Passano  (Milano,  Schiepatti 
lS54),  will  be  found  an  excellent  dictionary  of  reference. 


THE   NOVELISTS.  6 1 

of  Vicenza,  and,  last  not  least,  the  illustrious  Matteo 
Bandello,  proved  how  rich  in  this  species  of  literature 
were  the  northern  provinces.  The  Lombards  dis- 
played a  special  faculty  for  tales  in  which  romance 
predominated.  Venice,  notorious  for  her  pleasure- 
marts  of  luxury,  became  the  emporium  of  publica- 
tions which  supplied  her  courtesans  and  rufflers  with 
appropriate  mental  food.  The  Tuscans  showed  more 
comic  humor,  and,  of  course,  a  purer  style.  But  in 
point  of  matter,  intellectual  and  moral,  there  is  not 
much  to  choose  between  the  works  of  Florentine  and 
Lombard  authors. 

Following  the  precedent  of  Boccaccio,  it  was  usual 
for  the  Novellieri  to  invent  a  framework  for  their 
stories,  making  it  appear  that  a  polite  society  of  men 
and  women  (called  in  Italy  a  lieta  brigata)  had  by  some 
chance  accident  been  thrown  upon  their  own  resources 
in  circumstances  of  piquant  novelty.  One  of  the 
party  suggests  that  they  should  spend  their  time  in 
telling  tales,  and  a  captain  is  chosen  who  sets  the 
theme  and  determines  the  order  of  the  story-tellers. 
These  introductions  are  not  unfrequently  the  most 
carefully  written  portion  of  the  collection,  and  abound 
in  charming  sketches  of  Italian  life.  Thus  II  Lasca 
at  the  opening  of  Le  Cene  feigns  that  a  company  of 
young  men  and  women  went  in  winter  time  to  visit  at 
a  friend's  house  in  Florence.  It  was  snowing,  and  the 
youths  amused  themselves  by  a  snow-ball  match  in  the 
inner  courtyard  of  the  palace.  The  ladies  watched 
them  from  a  loggia,  till  it  came  into  their  heads  to  join 
the  game.  Snow  was  brought  them  from  the  roofs, 
and  they  began  to  pelt  the  young  men  from  their  bal- 


62  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

cony.1  The  fire  was  returned;  and  when  the  brigata 
had  enough  of  this  fun,  they  entered  the  house  to- 
gether, dried  their  clothes,  and,  sitting  round  a  blazing 
hearth,  formed  a  plan  for  telling  stories  at  supper. 
Girolamo  Parabosco  places  the  scene  of  his  Diporti  on 
the  Venetian  lagoons.  A  party  of  gentlemen  have 
left  the  city  to  live  in  huts  of  wood  and  straw 
upon  the  islands,  with  the  intention  of  fowling  and 
fishing.  The  weather  proves  too  bad  for  sport,  and 
they  while  away  the  hours  of  idleness  with  anecdotes. 
Bandello  follows  a  different  method,  which  had  been 
suggested  by  Masuccio.  He  dedicates  his  Novelle  to 
the  distinguished  people  of  his  acquaintance,  in  pref- 
aces not  devoid  of  flattery,  but  highly  interesting  to  a 
student  of  those  times.  Princes,  poets,  warriors,  men 
of  state,  illustrious  women,  and  humanists  pass  before 
us  in  these  dedications,  proving  that  polite  society  in 
Italy,  the  society  of  the  learned  and  the  noble,  was  a 
republic  of  wit  and  culture.  Alessandro  Bentivoglio 
and  Ippolita  Sforza,  the  leaders  of  fashion  and  Ban- 
dello's  special  patrons,  take  the  first  rank.2  Then  we 
have  the  Gonzaga  family  of  Mantua,  Lancinus  Cur- 
tius,  Aldus  Manutius,  Machiavelli,  Molsa,  Guicciardini, 
Castiglione,  the  Duchess  of  Urbino,  Giovanni  de' 
Medici,  Julius  Caesar  Scaliger,  Bernardo  Tasso,  Pro- 
spero  Colonna,  Julius  II.,  Porcellio,  Pontano,  Berni,  the 
Milanese  Visconti,  the  Neapolitan  Sanseverini,  the 
Adorni  of  Genoa,  the  Foscari  of  Venice,  the  Estensi 


i  This  motive  may  have  been  suggested  by  Folgore  da  S.  Gemi- 
gnano's  sonnet  on  the  month  of  January. 

*  These  are  the  pair  so  nobly  painted  by  Luini  above  the  high-altar 
of  S.  Maurizio  at  Milan.  See  my  Sketches  and  Studies  in  Italy. 


INTRODUCTIONS   TO  NOVELLE.  63 

of  Ferrara.  Either  directly  addressed  in  prefaces  or 
mentioned  with  familiar  allusion  in  the  course  of  the 
narratives,  these  historic  names  remind  us  that  the 
author  lived  at  the  center  of  civilization,  and  that  his 
Novelle  were  intended  for  the  entertainment  of  the 
great  world.  What  Castiglione  presents  abstractedly 
and  in  theory  as  a  critique  of  noble  society,  is  set 
before  us  by  Bandell-o  in  the  concrete  form  of  every- 
day occurrence.  Nor  does  the  author  forget  that  he  is 
speaking  to  this  company.  His  words  are  framed  to 
suit  their  prejudices;  his  allusions  have  reference  to 
their  sentiments  and  predilections.  The  whole  work 
of  art  breathes  the  air  of  good  manners  and  is  tuned 
to  a  certain  pitch-note  of  fashionable  tone.  We  may 
be  astounded  that  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  highest 
birth  and  breeding  could  tolerate  the  licenses  of  lan- 
guage and  suggestion  furnished  by  Bandello  for  their 
delectation.  We  may  draw  conclusions  as  to  their 
corruption  and  essential  coarseness  in  the  midst  of  re- 
fined living  and  external  gallantries.1  Yet  the  fact 
remains  that  these  Novelle  were  a  customary  adjunct  to 
the  courtly  pleasures  of  the  sixteenth  century;  and  it 
was  only  through  the  printing-press  that  they  passed 
into  the  taverns  and  the  brothels,  where  perhaps  they 
found  their  fittest  audience. 

Matteo  Bandello  was  a  member  of  the  petty  Lom- 
bard nobility,  born  at  Castelnuovo  in  Tortona.  His 
uncle  was  General  of  the  Dominicans,  and  this  circum- 

1  What  we  know  about  manners  at  the  Courts  of  our  Elizabeth  and 
James,  and  the  gossip  of  the  French  Court  in  Brantome's  Dames  Gal- 
antes,  remind  us  that  this  blending  of  grossness  and  luxury  was  not  pe- 
culiar to  Italy. 


64  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

stance  determined  Matteo's  career.  After  spending 
some  years  of  his  youth  at  Rome,  he  entered  the 
order  of  the  Predicatori  in  the  Convent  delle  Grazie  at 
Milan.  He  was  not,  however,  destined  to  the  seclu- 
sion of  a  convent;  for  he  attended  his  uncle,  in  the 
character  apparently  of  a  companion  or  familiar  secre- 
tary, when  the  General  visited  the  chief  Dominican 
establishments  of  Italy,  Spain,  France  and  Germany. 
A  considerable  portion  of  Bandello's  manhood  was 
passed  at  Mantua,  where  he  became  the  tutor  and  the 
platonic  lover  of  Lucrezia  Gonzaga.  Before  the  date 
1 62 5,  when  French  and  Spaniards  contested  the 
Duchy  of  Milan,  he  had  already  formed  a  collection  of 
Novelle  in  manuscript — the  fruits  of  all  that  he  had 
heard  and  seen  upon  his  frequent  travels.  These 
were  dispersed  when  the  Spaniards  entered  Milan  .and 
pillaged  the  house  of  the  Bandello  family.1  Matteo, 
after  numerous  adventures  as  an  exile,  succeeded  in 
recovering  a  portion  of  his  papers,  and  retired  with 
Cesare  Fregoso  to  the  Court  of  France.  He  now  set 
himself  seriously  to  the  task  of  preparing  his  Novelle 
for  the  press;  nor  was  this  occupation  interrupted  by 
the  duties  of  the  see  of  Agen,  conferred  upon  him  in 
i55o  by  Henry  II.  The  new  bishop  allowed  his 
colleague  of  Grasse  to  administer  the  see,  drawing 
enough  of  its  emoluments  for  his  private  needs,  and 
attending  till  his  death,  about  the  year  1 56o,  to  study 
and  composition. 

Bandello's  life  was  itself  a  novella.  The  scion  of  a 
noble  house,  early  dedicated  to  the  order  of  S.  Dominic, 
but  with  the  General  of  that  order  for  his  uncle,  he 

1  See  Dedication  to  Nov.  xi.  of  second  part. 


BANDELLO'S  BIOGRAPHY.  6c 

"rf 

enjoyed  rare  opportunities  of  studying  men  and  man- 
ners in  all  parts  of  Europe.  His  good  abilities  and 
active  mind  enabled  him  to  master  the  essentials  of 
scholarship,  and  introduced  him  as  tutor  to  one  of  the 
most  fascinating  learned  women  of  his  age.  These 
privileges  he  put  to  use  by  carrying  on  a  courtly  flir- 
tation with  his  interesting  pupil,  at  the  same  time  that 
he  penned  his  celebrated  novels.  The  disasters  of  the 
Milanese  Duchy  deprived  him  of  his  literary  collec- 
tions and  probably  injured  his  fortune.  But  he  found 
advancement  on  a  foreign  soil,  and  died  a  bishop  at 
the  moment  when  Europe  was  ringing  with  the  scan- 
dals of  his  too  licentious  tales.  These  tales  furnished 
the  Reformers  with  a  weapon  in  their  war  against 
the  Church;  nor  would  it  have  been  easy  to  devise 
one  better  to  their  purpose.  Even  now  it  moves 
astonishment  to  think  that  a  monk  should  have  writ- 
ten, and  a  bishop  should  have  published,  the  faceticz 
with  which  Bandello's  books  are  filled. 

Bandello  paints  a  society  in  dissolution,  bound  to- 
gether by  no  monarchical  or  feudal  principles,  without 
patriotism,  without  piety,  united  by  none  of  the  common 
spiritual  enthusiasms  that  make  a  people  powerful. 
The  word  honor  is  on  everybody's  lips;  but  the  thing 
is  nowhere:  and  when  the  story-teller  seeks  to  present 
its  ideal  image  to  his  audience,  he  proves  by  the 
absurdity  of  his  exaggeration  that  he  has  no  clear  con- 
ception of  its  meaning.1  The  virtues  which  inspired 

1  Read,  for  example,  the  Novella  of  Zilia,  who  imposed  silence  on  her 
lover  because  he  kissed  her,  and  the  whole  sequel  to  his  preposterous 
obedience  (iii.  17);  or  the  tale  of  Don  Giovanni  Emmanuel  in  the  lion's 
den  (iii.  39);  or  the  rambling-  story  of  Don  Diego  and  Ginevra  la  Bionda 
(i.  27).  The  two  latter  have  a  touch  of  Spanish  extravagance,  but  without 


66  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

an  earlier  and  less  corrupt  civility,  have  become  occa- 
sions for  insipid  rhetoric.  The  vice  that  formerly 
stirred  indignation,  is  now  the  subject  of  mirth.  There 
is  no  satire,  because  there  is  no  moral  sense.  Ban- 
dello's  revelations  of  clerical  and  monastic  immorality 
supplied  the  enemies  of  Rome  with  a  full  brief;  but  it 
is  obvious  that  Bandello  and  his  audience  regarded 
the  monstrous  tale  of  profligacy  with  amusement.  His 
frankness  upon  the  very  eve  of  the  Council  of  Trent 
has  something  at  once  cynical  and  sinister.  It  makes 
us  feel  that  the  hypocrisy  engendered  by  the  German 
Reformation,  the  si  non  caste  tamen  caute  of  the  new 
ecclesiastical  regime,  was  the  last  resort  of  a  system  so 
debased  that  vital  regeneration  had  become  impossible. 
This  does  not  necessarily  mean  that  the  Italian  Church 
had  no  worthy  ministers  in  the  sixteenth  century.  But 
when  her  dealing  with  the  people  ended  in  a  humor- 
ous acceptance  of  such  sin,  we  perceive  that  the 
rottenness  had  reached  the  core.  To  present  the 
details  of  Bandello's  clerical  stories  would  be  impossible 
in  pages  meant  for  modern  readers.  It  is  enough  to 
say  that  he  spares  no  rank  or  order  of  the  Roman 
priesthood.  The  prelate,  the  parish  curate,  the  abbot 
and  the  prioress,  the  monk  and  nun,  are  made  the 
subject  of  impartial  ribaldry.1  The  secrets  of  convents 
abandoned  to  debauchery  are  revealed  with  good- 
humored  candor,  as  though  the  scandal  was  too 
common  to  need  special  comment.2  Sometimes  Ban- 

the  glowing  Spanish  passion.  In  quoting  Bandello,  I  shall  refer  to  Part 
and  Novel  by  two  numerals.  References  are  made  to  the  Milanese 
edition,  Novellieri  Italiani,  1813-1816. 

i  For  instance,  Parte  ii.  Nov.  14;  ii.  xlv.;  iii.  2,  3,  4,  7,  20. 

«  See  the  description  in  ii.  36  (vol.  v.  p.  270);  and  again,  iii.  61;  ii.  45. 


HIS  IMMORALITY.  67 

dello  extracts  comedy  from  the  contrast  between  the 
hypocritical  pretensions  of  his  clerical  ruffians  and 
their  lawless  conduct,  as  in  the  story  of  the  priest  who 
for  his  own  ends  persuaded  his  parishioners  that  the 
village  was  haunted  by  a  griffin.1  Sometimes  he  suc- 
ceeds in  drawing  a  satirical  portrait,  like  that  of  the 
Franciscan  friar  who  domesticated  himself  as  chaplain 
in  the  castle  of  a  noble  Norman  family.2  But  the  ma- 
jority of  these  tales  are  simply  obscene,  with  no  point 
but  a  coarse  picture  or  a  shockingly  painful  climax.3 
The  same  judgment  may  be  passed  upon  a  large 
portion  of  the  Novelle  which  deal  with  secular  char- 
acters. They  are  indecent  anecdotes,  and  do  not  illus- 
trate any  specific  quality  in  the  author  or  in  the  temper 
of  his  times.4  The  seasoning  of  horror  only  serves  to 
render  their  licentiousness  more  loathsome.  As  Ban- 
dello  lacked  the  indignation  of  Masuccio,  so  he  failed 
to  touch  Masuccio's  tragic  chord.  When  he  attempted 
it,  as  in  the  ghastly  story  of  Violante,  who  revenged 
herself  upon  a  faithless  lover  by  tearing  him  to  pieces 
with  pincers,  or  in  the  disgusting  novel  of  Pandora,  or 
again  in  the  tale  of  the  husband  who  forced  his  wife  to 
strangle  her  lover  with  her  own  hands,  he  only  rouses 
physical  repulsion.5  He  makes  our  flesh  creep,  and 
produces  literature  analogous  to  that  of  the  Police 
Times.  Nor  does  he  succeed  better  with  subjects  that 
require  the  handling  of  a  profound  psychologist.  His 

1  ii.  2.  2  ii.  24. 

3  See,  for  instance,  ii.  20;  ii.  7. 

4  I  need  not  give  any  references  to  the  Novelle  of  this  groveling  type. 
But  I  may  call  attention  to  i.  35;  ii.  ii;  iv.  34,  35.     These  tales  are  not 
exceptionally  obscene;  they  illustrate  to  what  extent  mere  filth  of  the 
Swiftian  sort  passed  for  fun  in  the  Italy  of  Bembo  and  Castiglione. 

6  i.  42;  iii.  21;  iii.  52;  ii.  12. 


68  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Rosmunda  and  Tarquin,  his  Faustina  and  Seleucus, 
leave  an  impression  of  failure  through  defect  of  im- 
aginative force1;  while  the  incestuous  theme  of  one 
tale,  treated  as  it  is  with  frigid  levity,  can  claim  no 
justification  on  the  score  of  dramatic  handling  or  high- 
wrought  spiritual  agony.2 

It  was  not  in  this  region  of  tragic  terror  that  Ban- 
dello's  genius  moved  with  freedom.  In  describing  the 
luxury  of  Milan  or  the  manners  of  the  Venetian 
courtesans,  in  bringing  before  us  scenes  from  the 
demi-monde  of  Rome  or  painting  the  life  of  a  grisette, 
he  shows  acute  knowledge  of  society,  studied  under  its 
more  superficial  aspects,  and  produces  pictures  that 
are  valuable  for  the  antiquarian.3  The  same  merit  of 
freshness  belongs  to  many  minor  anecdotes,  like  the 
romance  of  the  girl  who  drowned  herself  in  the  Oglio  to 
save  her  honor,  or  the  pretty  episode  of  Costantino 
Boccali  who  swam  the  Adige  in  winter  at  a  thoughtless 
lady's  behest.4  Yet  in  Bandello's  versions  of  contem- 
porary histories  which  taxed  the  imaginative  powers  or 
demanded  deeper  insight  into  human  passions,  we  miss 
the  true  dramatic  ring.  It  was  only  when  it  fell  into 
the  hands  of  Webster,  that  his  dull  narrative  of  the 
Duchess  of  Amalfi  revealed  its  capacities  for  artistic 
treatment.6  Nor  is  the  story  of  the  Countess  of 

>  Hi.  18;  ii.  21;  i.  36;  iii.  55.  »  ii.  35;  cp.  i.  37. 

3  The  pictures  of  Milanese  luxury  before  the  Spanish  occupation  are 
particularly  interesting.  See  i.  9,  and  the  beginning  of  ii.  8.  It  seems 
that  then,  as  now,  Milan  was  famous  for  her  equipages  and  horses. 
The  tale  of  the  two  fops  who  always  dressed  in  white  (iii.  ii)  brings 
that  life  before  us.  For  the  Venetian  and  Roman  demi-monde,  iii.  31; 
i.  19;  i.  42;  ii.  51,  may  be  consulted.  These  passages  have  the  value  of 
authentic  studies  from  contemporary  life,  and  are  told  about  persons 
whom  the  author  knew  at  least  by  name. 

«  i.  8;  i.  47.  «  i.  26. 


HIS    SCOPE   AS  A    WRITER.  69 

Cellant,  though  full  of  striking  details,  so  presented  as 
to  leave  the  impression  of  tragedy  upon  our  minds.1 
We  only  feel  what  Webster,  dealing  with  it  as  he  dealt 
with  Vittoria  Corombona's  crime,  might  have  made  out 
of  this  poor  material. 

It  may  be  asked,  if  this  is  all,  why  any  one  should 
take  the  pains  to  read  through  the  two  hundred  and 
fourteen  Novelle  of  Bandello,  and,  having  done  so, 
should  think  it  worth  his  while  to  write  about  them. 
Ought  they  not  rather  to  be  left  among  the  things  the 
world  would  willingly  let  die  ?  The  answer  to  this 
question  is  twofold.  In  the  first  place  they  fairly  rep- 
resent the  whole  class  of  novels  which  were  produced 
so  abundantly  in  Italy  that  the  historian  of  Renais- 
sance literature  cannot*  pass  them  by  in  silence. 
Secondly,  Bandello  at  his  best  is  a  great  artist  in  the 
story-teller's  craft.  The  conditions  under  which  he  dis- 
played his  powers  to  true  advantage,  require  some  defi- 
nition. Once  only  did  he  successfully  handle  a  really 
comic  situation.  That  was  in  his  tale  of  the  monkey 
who  dressed  himself  up  in  a  dead  woman's  clothes, 
and  frightened  her  family  when  they  returned  from  the 
funeral,  by  mimicking  her  movement.2  He  was  never 
truly  tragic.  But  in  the  intermediate  region  between 
tragedy  and  comedy,  where  situations  of  romantic 
beauty  offer  themselves  to  the  sympathetic  imagination 
— in  that  realm  of  pathos  and  adventure,  where  pictures 
of  eventful  living  can  be  painted,  and  the  conflicts  of 
tender  emotion  have  to  be  described,  Bandello  proved 
himself  a  master.  It  would  make  the  orthodox  Italian 
critics  shudder  in  their  graves  to  hear  that  he  had  been 

i  i.  108.  2  iii.  65. 


70  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

compared  to  Ariosto.  Yet  a  foreigner,  gifted  with 
obtuser  sensibility  to  the  refinements  of  Italian  diction, 
may  venture  the  remark  that  Bandello  was  a  kind  of 
prose  Ariosto — in  the  same  sense  as  Heywood  seemed 
a  prose  Sha^spere  to  Charles  Lamb.  Judged  by  the 
high  standard  of  Athenian  or  Elizabethan  art,  neither 
Ariosto  nor  Bandello  was  a  first-rate  dramatist.  But 
both  commanded  the  material  of  which  romantic  trage- 
dies can  be  constructed.  Bandello's  best  Nouelle  abound 
in  the  situations  which  delighted  our  playwrights  of  the 
Jacobean  age — in  the  thrilling  incidents  and  scenes  of 
high-wrought  passion  we  are  wont  to  deem  the  special 
property  of  Fletcher.  He  puts  them  before  us  with  a 
force  of  realistic  coloring,  and  develops  them  with  a 
warmth  of  feeling,  that  leave  no  doubt  of  his  artistic 
skill.  Composition  and  style  may  fail  him,  but  his 
sympathy  with  the  poetic  situation,  and  his  power 
to  express  it  are  unmistakable.  In  support  of  this 
opinion  I  might  point  to  his  vigorous  but  repulsive 
presentation  of  Parisina's  legend,  where  the  gradual 
yielding  of  a  sensitive  young  man  to  the  seductions  of 
a  sensual  woman,  is  painted  with  touches  of  terrible 
veracity.1  Or  the  tale  of  the  Venetian  lovers  might 
be  chosen.2  Gerardo  and  Elena  were  secretly  married; 
but  in  his  absence  on  a  voyage,  she  was  plighted  by  her 
father  to  another  husband.  Before  the  consummation 
of  this  second  marriage,  Elena  fell  through  misery  into 
a  death-like  trance,  and  was  taken  by  her  kindred  to  be 
buried  at  Castello  on  the  shores  of  the  lagoons.  At  the 
moment  when  the  funeral  procession  was  crossing  the 
waters  by  the  light  of  many  torches,  the  ship  of  Gerardo 

'  i.  4J..  2  ii.  41. 


ROMANTIC    TALES.  71 

cast  anchor  in  the  port  of  Venice,  and  the  young  man 
heard  that  his  wife  was  dead.  Attended  by  a  single 
friend,  he  went  under  cover  of  the  night  to  where  she  had 
been  laid  in  a  sarcophagus  outside  the  church.  This 
he  opened,  and,  frantic  between  grief  and  joy,  bore  the 
corpse  of  his  beloved  to  his  boat.  He  kissed  her  lips, 
and  laid  himself  beside  her  lifeless  body,  wildly  refus- 
ing to  listen  to  his  friend's  expostulations.  Then  while 
the  gondola  rocked  on  the  waves  of  the  lagoons  and 
the  sea-wind  freshened  before  daybreak,  Elena  awoke. 
It  is  needless  to  add  that  the  story  ends  in  happiness. 
This  brief  sketch  conveys  no  notion  of  the  picturesque 
beauty  of  the  incidents  described,  or  of  the  intimate 
acquaintance  with  Venetian  customs  displayed  in  the 
Novella.  To  one  who  knows  Venice,  it  is  full  of  deli- 
cate suggestions,  and  the  reader  illuminates  the  margin 
with  illustrations  in  the  manner  of  Carpaccio. 

There  is  a  point  of  Romeo  and  Juliet  in  the  tale  of 
Gerardo  and  Elena.  Bandello's  own  treatment  of  the 
Veronese  romance  deserves  comparison  with  Shak- 
spere's.1  The  evolution  of  the  tragedy  is  nearly  the 
same  in  all  its  leading  incidents;  for  we  hear  of 
Romeo's  earlier  love,  and  the  friar  who  dealt  in  simples 
is  there,  and  so  are  the  nurse  and  apothecary.  Ban- 
dello  has  anticipated  Shakspere  even  in  Juliet's  solil- 
oquy before  she  drinks  the  potion,  when  the  dread- 
ful thought  occurs  to  her  that  she  may  wake  too  soon, 
and  find  herself  alone  among  the  dry  bones  of  her 
ancestors,  with  Tybalt  festering  in  his  shroud.  But 
the  prose  version  exhibits  one  motive  which  Shakspere 

1  ii.  37.  It  is  clear  that  both  followed  the  earlier  version  ot  Da 
Porto. 


71  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

missed.  When  Romeo  opens  the  tomb,  he  rouses 
Juliet  from  her  slumber,  and  in  his  joy  forgets  that  he 
has  drunk  the  poison.  For  a  while  the  lovers  are  in 
paradise  together  in  that  region  of  the  dead;  and  it  is 
only  when  the  chill  of  coming  death  assails  him,  that 
Romeo  remembers  what  he  has  done.  He  dies,  and 
Juliet  stabs  herself  with  his  sword.  Had  Shakspere 
chosen  to  develop  this  catastrophe,  instead  of  making 
Romeo  perish  before  the  waking  of  Juliet,  he  might 
have  wrought  the  most  pathetically  tragic  scene  in 
poetry.  Reading  the  climax  in  Bandello,  where  it  is 
overpoweringly  affecting,  we  feel  what  we  have  lost. 

Another  Novella  which  provokes  comparison  with 
our  dramatic  literature — with  the  Twelfth  Night  or  with 
Fletcher's  Philaster — is  the  tale  of  Nicuola.1  She  and 
her  brother  Paolo  were  twins,  so  like  in  height  and  form 
and  feature  that  it  was  difficult  even  for  friends  to  know 
them  apart.  They  were  living  with  their  father  at  Rome, 
when  the  siege  of  1627  dispersed  the  family.  Paolo 
was  taken  prisoner  by  Spaniards,  and  Nicuola  went  to 
dwell  at  Jesi.  The  Novella  goes  on  to  relate  how  she 
fell  in  love  with  a  nobleman  of  Jesi,  and  entering  his  ser- 
vice disguised  as  a  page,  was  sent  by  him  to  woo  the  lady 
of  his  heart;  and  how  this  lady  loved  her  in  her  page's 

1  ii.  36.  This  tale  was  fashionable  in  Italy.  It  forms  the  basis  of 
that  rare  comedy,  Gli  Ingannati,  performed  by  the  Academy  degli  In- 
tronati  at  Siena,  and  printed,  in  1538.  The  scene  in  this  play  is  laid  at 
Modena;  the  main  plot  is  interwoven  with  two  intrigues — between  Isa- 
bella's father  and  Lelia,  the  heroine;  and  between  Isabella's  maid  and 
a  Spaniard.  In  spite  of  these  complications  the  action  is  lucid,  and  the 
comedy  is  one  of  the  best  we  possess.  There  is  an  excellent  humorous 
scene  of  two  innkeepers  touting  against  each  other  for  travelers  (Act  iii. 
2).  That  Shakspere  knew  the  Novella  or  the  comedy  before  he  wrote 
his  Twelfth  Night  is  more  than  probable. 


BANDELLO   AND    OUR   DRAMA. 


73 


dress.  Then  her  brother,  Paolo,  returned,  attired  like 
her  in  white,  and  recognitions  were  made,  and  both 
couples,  Paolo  and  the  lady,  Nicuola  and  the  nobleman, 
were  happily  married  in  the  end.  It  will  be  seen 
that  these  situations,  involving  confusions  of  identity 
and  sex,  unexpected  discoveries,  and  cross-play  of 
passions,  offered  opportunities  for  rhetorical  and  pic- 
turesque development  in  the  style  of  a  modern  Euri- 
pides ;  nor  did  Bandello  fail  to  utilize  them. 

Of  a  higher  type  is  the  Novella  which  narrates  the 
love  of  Edward  III.  for  the  virtuous  Alice  of  Salis- 
bury.1 Here  the  interest  centers  in  four  characters — 
the  King,  Alice,  and  her  father  and  mother,  the  Earl 
and  Countess  of  Salisbury.  There  is  no  action  beyond 
the  conflict  of  motives  and  emotions  caused  by 
Edward's  passion,  and  its  successive  phases.  But 
that  conflict  is  so  vigorously  presented  that  attention 
never  flags ;  and,  though  the  tale  is  long,  we  are  drawn 
without  weariness  by  finely-modulated  transitions  to 
the  point  where  a  felicitous  catastrophe  is  not  only 
natural  but  necessary.  What  is  at  first  a  mere  desire 
in  Edward,  passes  through  graduated  moods  of  con- 
fident, despairing,  soul-absorbing  love.  The  ordinary 
artifices  of  a  seducer  are  replaced  by  the  powerful 
compulsion  of  a  monarch,  who  strives  to  corrupt  the 
daughter  by  working  on  her  father's  ambition  and 
her  mother's  weakness.  Thwarted  by  the  girl's  con- 
stancy at  every  turn,  he  sinks  into  love-melancholy, 
then  rouses  himself  with  the  furious  resolve  to  attempt 
force,  and  lastly,  yielding  to  his  nobler  nature,  offers 

1  ii.  37.     Historians  will  not  look  fa:  accuracy  in  what  is  an  Italian 
love-tale  founded  on  an  English  legend. 


74  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

his  crown  to  Alice.  These  several  moments  in  the 
King's  passion  are  exhibited  with  a  descriptive  wealth 
and  exuberance  of  resource  that  remind  us  forcibly  of 
our  own  stage.  The  contrasts  between  the  girl's  in- 
vincible honor  and  her  lover's  ungovernable  impulse, 
between  her  firmness  and  her  mother's  feebler  nature, 
and  again  between  the  sovereign's  overbearing  willful- 
ness and  the  Earl's  stubborn  but  respectful  resistance, 
suggest  a  series  of  high-wrought  situations,  which  only 
need  to  be  versified  and  divided  into  acts  to  make  a 
drama.  Fletcher  himself  might  have  proudly  owned 
the  scene  in  which  Edward  discovers  his  love  to  the 
Earl,  begs  him  to  plead  with  his  daughter,  and  has  to 
hear  his  reproaches,  so  courteously  and  yet  unflinch- 
ingly expressed.  What  follows  is  equally  dramatic. 
The  Earl  explains  to  Alice  his  own  ideal  of  honor; 
still  he  fairly  sets  before  her  the  King's  lawless  offer, 
and  then  receives  the  assurance  of  her  unconquerable 
chastity.  Her  mother,  moved  to  feebler  issues  by 
the  same  pressure,  attempts  to  break  her  daughter's 
resolve,  and  at  last  extorts  a  reluctant  consent  by  her 
own  physical  agony.  Finally,  the  girl,  when  left  alone 
with  her  royal  lover,  demands  from  him  or  death  or 
honor,  and  wins  her  cause  by  the  nobility  of  her 
carriage  in  this  hour  of  trial.  The  whole  Novella 
in  its  choice  of  motives,  method  of  treatment,  and  ethi- 
cal tone,  challenges  comparison  with  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher's  serious  plays.  Nor  is  the  style  unlike  theirs ; 
for  the  situations  are  worked  out  in  copious  and 
colored  language,  hasty  and  diffuse,  but  charged  and 
surcharged  with  the  passion  of  the  thing  to  be  por- 
trayed. Bandello,  like  Fletcher,  strikes  out  images  at 


ALICE    OF  SALISBURY.  75 

every  turn,  enlarges  in  rhetorical  digressions,  and  pours 
forth  floods  of  voluble  eloquence.1  The  morality, 
though  romantic,  is  above  his  usual  level ;  for  while 
he  paints  a  dissolute  and  willful  prince  in  Edward,  he 
contrives  to  make  us  feel  that  the  very  force  of  passion, 
when  purified  to  true  love  by  the  constancy  of  Alice, 
has  brought  the  monarch  to  a  knowledge  of  his  better 
self.  Nor  is  the  type  of  honor  in  Alice  and  the  Earl 
exaggerated.  They  act  and  speak  as  subjects,  con- 
scious of  their  duty  to  the  King,  but  resolved  to  pre- 
serve their  self-respect  at  any  cost,  should  speak  and 
act.  The  compliance  of  the  Countess,  who  is  willing 
to  sacrifice  her  daughter's  honor  under  the  impulse  of 
blind  terror,  cannot  be  called  unnatural.  The  conse- 
quent struggle  between  a  mother's  frailty  and  a  daugh- 
ter's firmness,  though  painful  enough,  is  not  so  dis- 
agreeably presented  as  in  Tourneur's  Revenger  s  Trag- 
edy. If  all  Bandello's  novels  had  been  conceived  in 
the  same  spirit  as  this,  he  would  have  ranked  among 
the  best  romantic  writers  of  the  modern  age.  As  it  is, 
we  English  may  perhaps  take  credit  to  ourselves  for 
the  superior  inspiration  of  the  legend  he  here  handled. 
The  moral  fiber  of  the  tale  is  rather  English  than 
Italian. 

Bandello  was  not  unaware  that  his  Novelle  lay  under 

i  Take  the  description  of  the  King's  love-sickness  (Nov.  If.  vol.  v.  p. 
352),  the  incident  of  the  King's  offer  to  the  Earl  (pp.  353,  354),  Edward's 
musings  (p.  364),  Alice  alone  in  London  (p.  376),  the  King's  defiance  of 
opinion  (p.  379),  the  people's  verdict  against  Alice  (p.  380),  Alice  arming 
herself  with  the  dagger  (p.  398),  the  garden  scene  upon  the  Thames  (p. 
399).  Then  the  discourses  upon  love  and  temperament  (p.  325),  on  dis- 
creet conduct  in  love  affairs  (pp.  334-338),  on  real  and  false  courtiers 
(pp.  382-388).  Compare  the  descriptive  passages  on  pp.  352,  354,  369, 
393,  395,  398,  with  similar  passages  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher. 


76  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

censure  for  licentiousness.  His  apology  deserves  to 
be  considered,  since  it  places  the  Italian  conscience  on 
this  point  in  a  clear  light  In  the  preface  to  the 
eleventh  Novella  of  the  second  part,  he  attacks  the 
question  boldly.1  "  They  say  that  my  stories  are  not 
honest.  In  this  I  am  with  them,  if  they  rightly  appre- 
hend honesty.  I  do  not  deny  that  some  are  not  only 
not  honest,  but  I  affirm  and  confess  that  they  are  most 
dishonest;  for  if  I  write  that  a  maiden  grants  favors 
to  a  lover,  I  cannot  pretend  that  the  fact  is  not  in  the 
highest  sense  immoral.  So  also  of  many  things  I 
have  narrated.  No  sane  person  will  fail  to  blame  in- 
cest, theft,  homicide,  and  other  vicious  actions;  and  I 
concede  that  my  Novelle  set  forth  these  and  similar 
enormous  crimes.  But  I  do  not  admit  that  I  deserve 
to  be  therefore  blamed.  The  world  ought  to  blame 
and  stigmatize  those  who  commit  such  crimes,  and  not 
the  man  who  writes  about  them."  He  then  affirms 
that  he  has  written  his  stories  down  as  he  heard  them 
from  the  lips  of  the  narrators,  that  he  has  clothed 
them  in  decent  language,  and  that  he  has  always  been 
careful  to  condemn  vice  and  to  praise  virtue.  In  the 
twenty-fourth  novel  of  the  same  part  he  returns  to  the 
charge.2  Hypocrites,  he  argues,  complain  that  the 
Decameron  and  similar  collections  corrupt  the  morality 
of  women  and  teach  vice;  "  but  I  was  always  of 
opinion  that  to  commit  crimes  rather  than  to  know 
about  them  was  vicious.  Ignorance  is  never  good, 
and  it  is  better  to  be  instructed  in  the  wickedness  of 

>  Nov.  It.  vol.  iv.  p.  226.    Compare  the  peroration  of  his  Preface  to 
the  third  part  (vol.  vii.  p.  13). 
«  Vol.  v.  p.  38. 


BANDELLO'S  APOLOGIES.  77 

the  world  than  to  fall  into  error  through  defect  of 
knowledge."  This  apology,  when  read  by  the  light  of 
Bandello's  own  Novelle,  is  an  impudent  evasion  of  the 
accusation.  They  are  a  school  of  profligacy ;  and  the 
author  was  at  pains  to  make  his  pictures  of  sensuality 
attractive.  That  he  should  plume  himself  upon  the 
decorum  of  his  language,  is  simply  comic.  Such  sim- 
ulation of  a  conscience  was  all  that  remained  at  an 
epoch  when  the  sense  of  shame  had  been  extinguished, 
while  acquiescence  in  the  doctrines  of  a  corrupt  Church 
had  not  ceased  to  be  fashionable. 

Bandello  is  more  sensitive  to  strictures  on  his 
literary  style,  and  makes  a  better  defense.  "They  say 
that  I  have  no  style.  I  grant  it ;  nor  do  I  profess  to 
be  a  master  of  prose,  believing  that  if  those  only  wrote 
who  were  consummate  in  their  art,  very  few  would 
write  at  all.  But  I  maintain  that  any  history,  com- 
posed in  however  rough  and  uncouth  a  language,  will 
not  fail  to  delight  the  reader;  and  these  novels  of 
mine  (unless  I  am  deceived  by  their  narrators)  are 
not  fables  but  true  histories."1  In  another  place  he 
confesses  that  his  manner  is  and  always  has  been  "light 
and  low  and  deficient  in  intellectual  quality."2  Again, 
he  meets  the  objection  that  his  diction  is  not  modeled 
on  the  purest  Tuscan  masterpieces,  by  arguing  that 
even  Petrarch  wrote  Italian  and  not  Tuscan,  and  that 
if  Livy  smacked  of  Patavinity,  he,  a  Lombard,  does 
not  shrink  from  Lombardisms  in  his  style.3  The  line 
of  defense  is  good ;  but,  what  is  more,  Bandello  knew 
that  he  was  popular.  He  cared  to  be  read  by  all 

i  Vol.  iv.  p.  226.     Cp.  vol.  ix.  p.  339. 

*  Vol.  vi.  p.  254.  3  Vol.  vii.  p.  II. 


78  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

classes  of  the  people  rather  than  to  be  praised  by 
pedants  for  the  purity  of  his  language.  Therefore  he 
snapped  his  fingers  at  Speron  Sperone  and  Trifone, 
the  so-called  Socrates  of  his  century.  The  Novella 
was  not  a  branch  of  scholarly  but  of  vulgar  literature ; 
and  Bandello  had  far  better  right  to  class  himself 
among  Italian  authors  than  Straparola  or  Giraldi, 
whose  novels  were  none  the  less  sought  after  with 
avidity  and  read  with  pleasure  by  thousands.  It  is 
true  that  he  was  not  a  master  of  the  best  Italian  prose, 
and  that  his  Novelle  do  not  rank  among  the  Testi  di 
Lingua.  He  is  at  one  and  the  same  time  prolix  and 
involved,  ornate  and  vulgar,  coarse  in  phraseology  and 
ambitious  in  rhetoric.  He  uses  metaphors  borrowed 
from  the  slang  of  the  fashionable  world  to  express 
gross  thoughts  or  actions.  He  indulges  in  pompous 
digressions  and  overloads  his  narrative  with  illustra- 
tions. But,  in  spite  of  these  defects,  he  is  rarely  dull. 
His  energy  and  copiousness  of  diction  never  fail  him. 
His  style  is  penetrated  with  the  passion  of  the  sub- 
ject, and  he  delights  our  imagination  with  wonderfully 
varied  pictures  drawn  from  life.  It  is  probable  that 
foreigners  can  render  better  justice  to  the  merits  of 
Bandello  as  a  writer,  than  Italians,  who  are  trained  to 
criticise  language  from  a  highly  reSned  and  technical 
point  of  view.  We  recognize  his  vividness  and  force 
without  being  disgusted  by  his  Lombardisms  or  the 
coarseness  of  his  phrases.  Yet  even  some  Italian 
critics  of  no  mean  standing  have  been  found  to  say  a 
good  word  for  his  style.  Among  these  may  be  reck- 
oned the  judicious  Mazzuchelli.1 

>  In  the  biography  of  Bandello  he  says,  "  Lo  stile  e  piuttosto  colto  e 


IL   LASCA. 


79 


The  author  of  Le  Cene  presents  a  marked  contrast 
to  Bandello.  Antonfrancesco  Grazzini  belonged  to  an 
ancient  and  honorable  family  of  Staggia  in  Valdelsa.1 
Some  of  his  ancestors  held  office  in  the  Florentine 
republic,  and  many  were  registered  in  the  Art  of  the 
Notaries.  Born  at  Florence  in  i5o3,  he  was  matricu- 
lated into  the  Speziali,  and  followed  the  profession  of  a 
druggist.  His  literary  career  was  closely  connected 
with  the  academies  of  Gli  Umidi  and  La  Crusca.2 
The  sobriquet  II  Lasca,  or  The  Roach,  assumed  by  him 
as  a  member  of  the  Umidi,  is  the  name  by  which  he  is 
best  known.  Besides  Navelle,  he  wrote  comedies  and 
poems,  and  made  the  renowned  collection  of  Canti 
Carnascialeschi.  He  died  in  i583  and  was  buried  in 
S.  Pier  Maggiore.  Thus  while  Bandello  might  claim 
to  be  a  citizen  of  the  great  world,  reared  in  the  eccle- 
siastical purple  and  conversant  with  the  noblest  society 
of  Northern  Italy,  II  Lasca  began  life  and  ended  it  as 
a  Florentine  burgher.  For  aught  we  know,  he  may 
not  have  traveled  beyond  the  bounds  of  the  republic. 
His  stories  are  written  in  the  raciest  Tuscan  idiom, 
and  are  redolent  of  the  humor  peculiar  to  Florence. 
If  Bandello  appropriated  the  romantic  element  in  Boc- 
caccio, II  Lasca  chose  his  comic  side  for  imitation. 
Nearly  all  his  novels  turn  on  beffe  and  burle,  similar  to 
those  sketched  in  Sacchetti's  anecdotes,  or  developed 
with  greater  detail  by  Pulci  and  the  author  of  fl 
Grasso,  Legnaiuolo?  Three  boon  companions,  Lo 

studiato,  che  che  talurto  n'  abbia  detto  in  contrario,  non  perb  in  guisa 
che  possa  mettersi  a  confronto  di  quello  del  Boccaccio." 

1  See  Sonnet  79,  Rime  (ed.  1741). 

2  Founded  respectively  in  1540  and  1583.     Grazzini  quarreled  with 
them  both. 

3  Cena  i.  Nov.  3,  is  in  its  main  motive  modeled  on  that  novel. 


8o  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Scheggia,  II  Monaco,  and  II  Pilucca  are  the  heroes  of 
his  comedy ;  and  the  pranks  they  play,  are  described 
with  farcical  humor  of  the  broadest  and  most  powerful 
sort.  Still  the  specific  note  of  II  Lasca's  novels  is  not 
pure  fun.  He  combines  obscenity  with  fierce  carnal 
cruelty  and  inhuman  jesting,  in  a  mixture  that  speaks 
but  ill  for  the  taste  of  his  time.1  Neither  Boccaccio 
nor  the  author  of  H  Grasso  struck  a  chord  so  vicious, 
though  the  latter  carried  his  buffoonery  to  the  utmost 
stretch  of  heartlessness.  It  needed  the  depravity 
of  the  sixteenth  century  to  relish  the  lust,  seasoned 
with  physical  torture  and  spiritual  agony,  which  was  so 
cunningly  revealed,  so  coldly  reveled  in  by  II  Lasca.2 
A  practical  joke  or  an  act  of  refined  vengeance  had 
peculiar  attraction  for  the  Florentines.  But  the  men 
must  have  been  blunted  in  moral  sensibility  and 
surfeited  with  strange  experiences,  who  could  enjoy 
Pilucca's  brutal  tricks,  or  derive  pleasure  from  the 
climax  of  a  tale  so  ghastly  as  the  fifth  Novella  of  the 
second  series. 

This  is  a  story  of  incest  and  a  husband's  vengeance. 
Substantially  the  same  as  Parisina's  tragedy,  II  Lasca 
has  invented  for  it  his  own  whimsically  horrible  con- 
clusion. The  husband  surprises  his  wife  and  son. 
Then,  having  cut  off  their  hands,  feet,  eyes  and 

i  The  contrast  between  the  amiable  manners  of  the  young  men  and 
women  described  in  the  introduction  to  Le  Cene,  and  the  stories  put 
into  their  mouths;  between  the  profound  immorality,  frigid  and  repel- 
lent, of  the  tales  and  Ghiacinto's  prayer  at  the  beginning;  need  not  be 
insisted  on. 

»  As  I  shall  not  dilate  upon  these  novels  further  in  the  text,  I  may 
support  the  above  censure  by  reference  to  the  practical  joke  played  upon 
the  pedagogue  (i.  2),  to  the  inhuman  novel  of  //  Berna  (ii.  2),  to  the 
cruel  vengeance  of  a  brother  (ii.  7),  and  to  the  story  of  the  priest  (ii.  8;. 


LUST  AND    CRUELTY.  8 1 

tongues,  he  leaves  them  to  die  together  on  the  bed  where 
he  had  found  them.  The  rhetoric  with  which  this 
catastrophe  is  embellished,  and  the  purring  sympathy 
expressed  for  the  guilty  couple,  only  serve  to  make 
its  inhumanity  more  glaring.  Incapable  of  under- 
standing tragedy,  these  writers  of  a  vitiated  age  sought 
excitement  in  monstrous  situations.  The  work  pro- 
duced is  a  proper  pendent  to  the  filth  of  the  burlesque 
Capitoli.  Literature  of  this  sort  might  have  amused 
Caligula  and  his  gladiators.  Prefaced  by  an  unctuous 
prayer  to  God,  it  realizes  the  very  superfluity  of 
naughtiness.1 

In  favor  of  the  Florentines,  we  might  plead  that 
these  Novelle  were  accepted  as  pure  fictions — debauches 
of  the  fancy,  escapades  of  inventive  wit.  The  ideal 
world  they  represented,  claimed  no  contact  with  reali- 
ties of  life.  The  pranks  of  Lo  Scheggia  and  II  Pilucca. 
which  drove  one  man  into  exile,  another  to  the  hos- 
pital, and  a  third  to  his  -death,  had  no  more  actuality 
than  the  tricks  of  clown  and  pantaloon.  A  plea  of  this 
sort  was  advanced  by  Charles  Lamb  for  the  dramatists 
of  the  Restoration;  and  it  carries,  undoubtedly,  its 
measure  of  conviction.  Literature  of  convention,  which 
begins  by  stimulating  curiosity,  must  find  novel  combi- 
nations and  fresh  seasonings,  to  pique  the  palate  of 
the  public.  Thus  the  abominations  of  II  Lasca's 
stories  would  have  to  be  regarded  as  the  last  desperate 
bids  for  popularity,  as  final  hyperboles  of  exhausted 
rhetoric.  Yet,  after  all,  books  remain  the  mirror  of  a 
people's  taste.  Whatever  their  quality  may  be,  they  are 
produced  to  satisfy  some  demand.  And  the  wonderful 

1  See  above,  p.  56,  note. 


82  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

vivacity  of  II  Lasca's  coloring,  the  veracity  of  his 
art,  preclude  him  from  the  benefit  of  a  defense  which 
presupposes  that  he  stood  in  some  unnatural  relation 
to  his  age.  While  we  read  his  tales,  we  cannot  but 
remember  the  faces  painted  by  Bronzino,  or  modeled 
by  Cellini.  The  sixteenth-century  Florentines  were 
hard  and  cold  as  steel.  Their  temper  had  been  brutal- 
ized by  servitude,  superficially  polished  by  humanism, 
blunted  by  the  extraordinary  intellectual  activity  of 
three  centuries.  Compared  with  the  voluptuous  but 
sympathetic  mood  of  the  Lombard  novelists,  this 
cruelty  means  something  special  to  the  race. 

Some  of  II  Lasca's  stories,  fortunately,  need  no 
such  strained  apology  or  explanation.  The  tale  of 
Lisabetta's  dream,  though  it  lacks  point,  is  free  from  his 
worse  faults l ;  while  the  novel  of  Zoroaster  is  not  only 
innocent,  but  highly  humorous  and  charged  with 
playful  sarcasm.2  It  contains  a  portrait  of  a  knavish 
astrologer,  worthy  to  be  set  beside  the  Negromante  of 
Ariosto  or  Ben  Jonson's  Alchemist.  When  Jerome 
Cardan  was  coquetting  with  chiromancy  and  magic, 
when  Cellini  was  raising  fiends  with  the  Sicilian  necro- 
mancer in  the  Coliseum,  a  novelist  found  sufficient 
stuff  for  comedy  and  satire  in  the  foibles  of  ghost- 
seekers  and  the  tricks  of  philter-mongers.  The  com- 
panion portrait  of  the  dissolute  monk,  who  sets  his 
hand  to  any  dirty  work  that  has  the  spice  of  fun  in 
it,  is  also  executed  "with  no  little  spirit. 

Among  the  most  graceful  of  the  Tuscan  novelists 
may  be  mentioned  Agnolo  Firenzuola.  His  family 
derived  its  name  from  a  village  at  the  foot  of  the 

1   Cena  ii.  3.  "  Cena  ii.  4. 


AGNOLO   FIRENZUOLA.  83 

Pistojan  Apennines,  and  his  father  was  a  citizen  of 
Florence.  Agnolo  spent  his  youth  at  Siena  and  Peru- 
gia, where  he  made  the  friendship  of  Pietro  Aretino, 
leading  the  wild  student  life  described  in  their  corre- 
spondence.1 That  he  subsequently  entered  the  Vallom- 
brosan  order  seems  to  be  certain;  but  it  is  somewhat 
doubtful  whether  he  attained  the  dignity  of  Abbot 
which  his  biographers  ascribe  to  him.2  Tiraboschi, 
unwilling  to  admit  so  great  a  scandal  to  the  Church, 
has  adduced  reasons  why  we  should  suspend  our 
judgment.3  Yet  the  tradition  rests  on  substantial 
authority.  A  monument  erected  by  Firenzuola  to  his 
uncle  Alessandro  Braccio  in  the  church  of  S.  Prassede, 
at  Rome,  describes  him  as  cedis  hujus  Abbas.  S.  Maria 
di  Spoleti  and  S.  Salvator  di  Vaiano  are  supposed  to 
have  been  his  benefices.  Some  further  collateral  proof 
might  be  drawn  from  the  opening  of  the  dialogue 
Sopra  le  Bellezze  delle  Donne.  The  scene  of  it  is  laid 
in  the  convent  grounds  of  Grignano,  and  Celso  is 
undoubtedly  Firenzuola.  A  portion  of  his  manhood 
was  spent  at  Rome  in  friendship  with  Molza,  Berni, 
and  other  brilliant  literary  men.  While  resident  in 
Rome  he  contracted  a  severe  and  tedious  illness, 
which  obliged  him  to  retire  to  Prato,  where  he  spent 
some  of  the  happiest  years  of  his  life.4  Nearly  all  his 
works  contain  frequent  and  affectionate  recollections  of 

1  See  the  Letters  of  Aretino,  vol.  ii.  p.  239. 

2  All  my  references  are  made  to  the  Opere  di  Messer  Agnolo  Fi- 
renzuola, 5  vols.  Milan,  1802. 

3  Storia  della  Lett.  It.  lib.  iii.  cap.  3,  sect.  27. 

4  In  a  letter  to  Aretino,  dated  Prato,  Oct.  5,  1541,  he  says  he  had 
been  ill  for  eleven  years.     It  seems  probable  that  his  illness  was  of  the 
kind  alluded  to  in  his  Capitolo  "  In  Lode  del  Legno  Santo"  (Op.  Volg. 
iv.  p.  204). 


84  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

this  sunny  little  town,  the  beauty  of  whose  women  is 
enthusiastically  celebrated  by  him.  Firenzuola  died 
before  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century  at  the  age 
of  about  fifty.  Neither  his  life  nor  his  friendships  nor 
yet  his  writings  were  consistent  with  his  monastic  pro- 
fession and  the  dignity  of  Abbot.  The  charm  of 
Firenzuola's  Novelle  is  due  in  a  large  measure  to  his 
style,  which  has  a  wonderful  transparency  and  ease,  a 
wealth  of  the  rarest  Tuscan  phrases,  and  a  freshness 
of  humor  that  renders  them  delightful  reading.  The 
storm  at  sea  in  the  first  tale,  and  the  night  scene  in  the 
streets  of  Florence  in  the  third,  are  described  with 
Ariostean  brilliancy.1  In  point  of  subject-matter  they 
do  not  greatly  differ  from  the  ordinary  novels  of  the 
day,  and  some  of  the  tales  reappear  in  the  collections 
of  other  novelists.2  Most  of  them  turn  upon  the 
foibles  and  the  vices  of  the  clergy.  The  fourth  Novella, 
which  is  perhaps  the  best  of  all  in  style  and  humor, 
presents  a  truly  comic  picture  of  the  parish  priest, 
while  the  fifth  describes  the  interior  of  a  dissolute 
convent  at  Perugia,  and  the  tenth  exposes  the  arts 
whereby  confessors  induced  silly  women  to  make  wills 
in  the  favor  of  their  convents.  Don  Giovanni,  Suor 
Appellagia,  and  Fra  Cherubino,  the  chief  actors  in 
these  stories,  might  be  selected  as  typical  characters 
in  the  Italian  comedy  of  clerical  dissoluteness. 

Firenzuola  preface^!  his  novels  with  an  elaborate 
introduction,  describing  the  meeting  of  some  friends  at 
Celso's  villa  near  Pazolatico,  and  their  discourse  on 

1   Op.  ii.  pp.  94,  130. 

•  For  example,  Nov.  iv.  is  the  same  as  Bandello's  II.  xx.;  Nov.  vii. 
is  the  same  as  II  Lasca's  ii.  10,  and  Fortina's  xiv. 


DISCOURSES    ON  LOVE   AND   BEAUTY.  85 

love.1  From  discussion  they  pass  to  telling  amorous 
stories  under  the  guidance  of  a  Queen  selected  by  the 
company.2  The  introductory  conversation  is  full  of  a 
dreamy,  sensualized,  disintegrated  Platonism.  It  pa- 
rades conventional  distinctions  between  earthly  and 
heavenly  love,  between  the  beauty  of  the  soul  and  the 
beauty  of  the  body;  and  then  we  pass  without  modu- 
lation into  the  region  of  what  is  here  called  accident* 
amorosi.  The  same  insincere  Platonism  gives  color 
to  Firenzuola's  discourse  on  the  Beauty  of  Women- 
one  of  the  most  important  productions  of  the  sixteenth 
century  in  illustration  of  popular  and  artistic  taste.3 
The  author  imagines  himself  to  have  interrupted  a 
bevy  of  fair  ladies  from  Prato  in  the  midst  of  a  dispute 
about  the  beauty  of  Mona  Amelia  della  Torre  Nuova. 
Mona  Amelia  herself  was  present ;  and  so  were  Mona 
Lampiada,  Mona  Amorrorisca,  Mona  Selvaggia,  and 
Mona  Verdespina.4  Under  these  names  it  is  clear 
that  living  persons  of  the  town  of  Prato  are  designated; 
and  all  the  examples  of  beauty  given  in  the  dialogue 
are  chosen  from  well-known  women  of  the  district. 
The  composition  must  therefore  be  reckoned  as  an 

1  Vol.  ii.  p.  28.     The  poem  put  into  Celso's  mouth,  p.  39,  is  clearly 
autobiographical. 

2  There  is  the  usual  reference  to  Boccaccio,  at  p.  32.    I  may  take  this 
occasion  for  citing  an  allusion  to  Boccaccio  from  the  Introduction  to  Le 
Cene,  which  shows  how  truly  he  was  recognized  as  the  patron  saint  of 
novelists.     See  Le  Cene  (Firenze,  Lemonnier,  1857),  p.  4. 

3  Vol.  i.  pp.  1-97.     I  may  here  allude  to  a  still  more  copious  and 
detailed  treatise  on  the  same  theme  by  Federigo  Luigino  of  Udine:  // 
Libra  della  Bella  Donna,  Milano,  Daelli,  1863;  a  reprint  from  the  Vene- 
tian edition  of  1554.     This  book  is  a  symphony  of  graceful  images  and 
delicately  chosen  phrases;  it  is  a  dithyramb  in  praise  of  feminine  beauty, 
which  owes  its  charm  to  the  intense  sympathy,  sensual  and  aesthetic,  ot 
the  author  for  his  subject. 

4  Selvaggia  was  the  lady  of  Firenzuola's  Rime. 


86  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

elaborate  compliment  from  Firenzuola  to  the  fair  sex 
of  Prato.1  Celso  begins  his  exposition  of  beauty  by 
declaring  that  "  it  is  God's  highest  gift  to  human 
nature,  inasmuch  as  by  its  virtue  we  direct  our  soul  to 
contemplation,  and  through  contemplation  to  the  desire 
of  heavenly  things."2  He  then  proceeds  to  define 
beauty  as  "  an  ordered  concord,  or,  as  it  were,  a  har- 
mony inscrutably  resulting  from  the  composition, 
union,  and  commission  of  divers  members,  each  of 
which  shall  in  itself  be  well  proportioned  and  in  a  cer- 
tain sense  beautiful,  but  which,  before  they  combine  to 
make  one  body,  shall  be  different  and  discrepant 
among  themselves."3  Having  explained  each  clause 
of  this  definition,  he  passes  to  the  appetite  for  beauty, 
and  tells  the  myth  invented  for  Aristophanes  in  Plato's 
Symposium. '  This  leads  by  natural  transitions  to  the 
real  business  of  the  dialogue,  which  consists  in  ana- 
lyzing and  defining  every  kind  of  loveliness  in  women, 
and  minutely  describing  the  proportions,  qualities,  and 
colors  of  each  portion  of  the  female  body.  The 
whole  is  carried  through  with  the  method  of  a  philos- 
opher, the  enthusiasm  of  an  artist,  and  the  refinement 
of  a  well-bred  gentleman.  The  articles  upon  Leggi- 
adria,  Grazia,  Vaghezza,  Venusfa,  Aria,  Maesfo,  may 
even  now  be  read  with  profit  by  those  who  desire  to 
comprehend  the  nice  gradations  of  meaning  implied  by 
these  terms.4  The  discourses  on  the  form  and  color 
of  the  ear,  and  on  the  proper  way  of  wearing  orna- 
mental flowers,  bring  incomparably  graceful  images 

1  See  the  Elegia  alle  Donne  Pratesi,  vol.  iv.  p.  41. 
*  Vol.  i.  p.  16.     Compare  the  extraordinary  paragraph  about  female 
beauty  being  an  earnest  of  the  beauties  of  Paradise  (pp.  31,  32). 
a  Ibid.  p.  21.  «  Ibid.  pp.  51-62. 


MISCELLANEOUS    WORKS.  87 

before  us1;  and  this,  indeed,  can  be  said  about  the 
whole  dialogue,  for  there  is  hardly  a  sentence  that 
does  not  reveal  the  delicate  perceptions  of  an  artistic 
nature. 

Firenzuola's  adaptation  of  the  Golden  Ass  may  be 
reckoned  among  the  triumphs  of  his  style,  and  the 
fables  contained  in  his  Discorsi  degli  Animali  are  so 
many  minutely  finished  novelettes.2  Both  of  these 
works  belong  to  the  proper  subject  of  the  present 
chapter.  His  comedies  and  his  burlesque  poems  must 
be  left  for  discussion  under  different  headings.  With 
regard  to  his  serious  verses,  addressed  to  Mona 
Selvaggia,  it  will  be  enough  to  say  that  they  are 
modeled  upon  Petrarch.  Though  limpid  in  style  and 
musical,  as  all  Firenzuola's  writing  never  failed  to  be, 
they  ring  hollow.  The  true  note  of  the  man's  feeling 
was  sensual.  The  highest  point  it  reached  was  the 
admiration  for  plastic  beauty  expressed  in  his  dialogue 
on  women.  It  had  nothing  in  common  with  Petrarch's 
melancholy.  Of  these  minor  poems  I  admire  the  little 
ballad  beginning  O  rozza  pastorella,  and  the  wonderfully 
lucid  version  of  Poliziano's  Violce — O  Viole  formose, 
o  dolci  viole — more  than  any  others.3 

Except  for  the  long  illness  which  brought  him  to 
Prato,  Firenzuola  appears  to  have  spent  a  happy  and 
mirthful  life ;  and  if  we  may  trust  his  introduction  to 
the  Novels,  he  was  fairly  wealthy.  What  we  know 
about  the  biography  of  Antonfrancesco  Doni,  who  also 
deserves  a  place  among  the  Tuscan  novelists,  presents 

1  Vol.  i.  pp.  75-80. 

2  Vol.  iii.     The  Golden  Ass  begins  with  an  autobiography  (vol.  i. 
p.  103). 

3  Vol.  iv.  pp.  19,  76. 


88  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

a  striking  contrast  to  this  luxurious  and  amorous 
existence.1  He  was  a  Florentine,  and,  like  Firenzuola, 
dedicated  to  religion.  Born  in  i5i3,  he  entered  the 
Servite  order  in  the  cloister  of  the  Annunziata.  He 
began  by  teaching  the  boys  intrusted  to  the  monks 
for  education.  But  about  1640  he  was  obliged  to 
fly  the  monastery  under  the  cloud  of  some  grave 
charge  connected  with  his  pupils.2  Doni  turned  his 
back  on  Florence;  and  after  wandering  from  town  to 
town  in  Northern  Italy,  settled  at  last  in  1642  at 
Piacenza,  where  he  seems  for  a  short  while  to  have 
applied  himself  with  an  unwilling  mind  to  law-studies. 
At  Piacenza  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  Lodovico 
Domenichi,  who  introduced  him  into  the  Accademia 
Ortolana.  This  was  a  semi-literary  club  of  profligates 
with  the  Priapic  emblems  for  its  ensign.  Doni's 
wild  and  capricious  humor  made  him  a  chief  orna- 
ment of  the  society;  but  the  members  so  misconducted 
themselves  in  word  and  deed  that  it  was  soon  found 
necessary  to  suppress  their  meetings.  While  amusing 
himself  with  poetry  and  music  among  his  boon  com- 
panions, Doni  was  on  the  lookout  for  a  place  at 
Court  or  in  the  household  of  a  wealthy  nobleman. 
His  letters  at  this  period  show  that  he  was  willing  to 
become  anything  from  poet  or  musician  down  to  fool 
or  something  worse.  Failing  in  all  his  applications, 
he  at  last  resolved  to  make  what  gains  he  could  by 
literature.  His  friend  Domenichi  had  already  settled 
at  Venice,  when  Doni  joined  him  there  in  1644.  But 

1  My  principal  authority  is  Doni's  Life  by  S.  Bongi  prefixed  to  an 
edition  ot  \hz  Novclle,  1851,  and  reprinted  in  Fanfani's  edition  of  I  Mar- 
mi,  Florence,  1863. 

*  See  Zilioli,  quoted  by  Bongi,  I  Mar  mi,  vol.  i.  p.  xiv. 


ANTONFRANCESCO   DONL  89 

his  stay  was  of  brief  duration.  We  find  him  again 
at  Piacenza,  next  at  Rome,  and  then  at  Florence, 
where  he  established  a  printing-press.  The  principal 
event  of  this  Florentine  residence  was  a  definite 
rupture  with  Domenichi.  We  do  not  know  the 
causes  of  their  quarrel ;  but  both  of  them  were  such 
scamps  that  it  is  probable  they  took  good  care,  while 
abusing  one  another  in  general  terms,  to  guard  the 
secrets  of  their  respective  crimes.  During  the  rest  of 
Doni's  life  he  pursued  his  old  friend  with  relentless 
animosity.  His  invectives  deserve  to  be  compared 
with  those  of  the  humanists  in  the  preceding  century; 
while  Domenichi,  who  had  succeeded  in  securing  a 
position  for  himself  at  Florence,  replied  with  no  less 
hostility  in  the  tone  of  injured  virtue. 

In  1647  Doni  settled  finally  at  Venice.  The  city 
of  the  lagoons  was  the  only  safe  resort  for  a  man  who 
had  offended  the  Church  by  abandoning  his  vows,  and 
whose  life  and  writings  were  a  scandal  even  in  that 
age  of  license.  Everywhere  else  he  would  have  been 
exposed  to  peril  from  the  Inquisition.  Though  he  had 
dropped  the  cowl,  he  could  not  throw  aside  the  cassock, 
and  his  condition  as  priest  proved  not  only  irksome 
but  perilous.1  At  Venice  he  lived  a  singular  Bohe- 
mian existence,  inhabiting  a  garret  which  overlooked 
one  of  the  noisiest  of  the  small  canals,  and  scribbling 
for  his  daily  bread.  He  was  a  rapid  and  prolific  writer, 

i  How  Doni  hated  his  orders  may  be  gathered  from  these  extracts: 
"  La  bestial  cosa  che  sia  sopportare  quattro  corna  in  capo  senza  belare 
unquanco.  lo  ho  un  capriccio  di  farmi  scomunicare  per  non  cantare 
piu  Domine  labia,  e  spretarmi  per  non  essere  a  noia  a  tutte  le  persone." 
"  L'  esser  colla  chierica  puzza  a  tutti."  His  chief  grievance  was  that  he 
had  made  no  money  out  of  the  Church. 


90  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

sending  his  copy  to  the  press  before  it  was  dry,  and 
never  caring  for  revision.  To  gain  money  was  the 
sole  object  of  his  labors.  The  versatility  of  his  mind 
and  his  peculiar  humor  made  his  miscellanies  popular ; 
and  like  Aretino  he  wheedled  or  menaced  ducats  out 
of  patrons.  Indeed,  Doni's  life  at  Venice  is  the  proper 
pendent  to  Aretino's,  who  was  once  his  friend  and 
afterwards  his  bitter  foe.  But  while  Aretino  contrived 
to  live  like  a  prince,  Doni,  for  many  years  at  any  rate, 
endured  the  miseries  of  Grub  Street.  They  quarreled 
about  a  present  which  the  Duke  of  Urbino  had 
promised  Doni  through  his  secretary.  Aretino  thought 
that  this  meant  poaching  on  his  manors.  Accordingly 
he  threatened  his  comrade  with  a  thorough  literary 
scourging.  Doni  replied  by  a  pamphlet  with  this 
singular  title:  "Terremoto  del  Doni  fiorentino,  con  la 
rovina  d'  un  gran  Colosso  bestiale  Antichristo  della 
nostra  eta."  His  capricious  nature  and  bizarre  passions 
made  Doni  a  bad  friend ;  but  he  was  an  incomparably 
amusing  companion.  Accordingly  we  find  that  his 
society  was  sought  by  the  literary  circles  of  all  cities 
where  he  lived.  At  Florence  he  had  been  appointed 
secretary  to  the  Umidi.  At  Venice  he  became  a 
member  of  the  Pellegrini.  This  academy  was  founded 
before  the  League  of  Cambrai  in  a  deserted  villa  near 
the  lagoons.1  Mystery  hung  over  its  origin  and  con- 
tinued to  involve  its  objects.  Several  wealthy  noble- 
men of  Venice  supplied  the  club  with  ample  funds. 
They  had  a  good  library,  and  employed  two  presses 

i  The  greater  part  of  what  we  know  about  the  Pellegrini  occurs  in 
Doni's  I  Afar  mi.  See  also  a  memoir  by  Giaxich,  and  the  notices  in  Mu- 
Unelli's  Diari  Urbani. 


DONPS  LIFE   AT    VENICE.  91 

for  the  printing  of  their  works.  The  members  formed 
a  kind  of  masonic  body,  bound  together  by  strict 
mutual  obligations,  and  sworn  to  maintain  each  other 
in  peril  or  in  want.  They  also  exercised  generosity 
toward  needy  men  of  letters,  dowered  poor  girls,  and 
practiced  many  charities  of  a  similar  description.  Their 
meetings  took  place  in  certain  gardens  at  Murano  or  on 
the  island  of  S.  Giorgio  Maggiore.  The  two  Sansovini, 
Nardi,  Titian,  Dolce,  and  other  eminent  men  belonged 
to  the  society;  but  Doni  appears  to  have  been  its 
moving  spirit  on  all  occasions  of  convivial  intercourse. 

The  last  years  of  this  Bohemian  life  were  spent 
beneath  the  Euganean  hills  in  a  square  castle,  which, 
picturesquely  draped  with  ivy,  may  still  be  seen  tower- 
ing above  Monselice.  That  Doni  had  accumulated 
some  capital  by  his  incessant  scribbling,  is  proved  by 
the  fact  that  he  laid  out  the  grounds  about  his  fortress 
with  considerable  luxury.  A  passage  quoted  from  the 
Venetian  Zilioli  serves  to  bring  the  man  more 
vividly  before  us :  "  At  the  summit  of  the  hill  above 
Monselice  stands  the  house  where  Antonfrancesco 
Doni  indulged  his  leisure  with  philosophy  and  poetry, 
He  was  a  man  of  bizarre  humor,  who  had  but 
little  patience  with  his  neighbors.  Retiring  from 
society,  he  chose  this  abode  in  order  to  give  full  scope 
in  his  own  way  and  without  regard  for  any  one  to  his 
caprices,  which  were  often  very  ludicrous.  Who  could 
have  refrained  from  laughter,  when  he  saw  a  man  of 
mature  age,  with  a  beard  down  to  his  breast,  going 
abroad  at  night  barefooted  and  in  his  shirt,  careering, 
among  the  fields,  singing  his  own  songs  and  those  of 
other  poets ;  or  else  in  daytime  playing  on  a  lute  and 


92  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

dancing  like  a  little  boy  ?  "  Doni  died  at  Venice  in 
the  autumn  of  1674. 

Doni's  Novelle  are  rather  detached  scenes  of  life 
than  stories  with  a  plot  or  theme.  Glowing  and 
picturesque  in  style,  sharply  outlined,  and  smartly 
told,  they  have  the  point  of  epigrams.  The  fourth  of 
the  series  might  be  chosen  to  illustrate  the  extravagant 
efforts  after  effect  made  by  the  Italian  novelist  with 
a  view  to  stimulating  the  attention  of  his  audience.  It 
is  a  tale  of  two  mortal  enemies,  one  of  whom  kills  the 
father  and  the  brother  of  his  foe.  The  injured  man 
challenges  and  conquers  him  in  single  combat,  when, 
having  the  ruffian  at  his  mercy,  he  raises  him  from 
the  ground,  pardons  him,  and  makes  him  his  bosom 
friend.  Likelihood  and  moral  propriety  are  sacrificed 
in  order  that  the  Novella  may  end  with  a  surprise. 

Doni's  Novelle^  taken  by  themselves,  would 
scarcely  have  justified  the  space  allotted  to  him  in 
this  chapter.  His  biography  has,  however,  the  im- 
portance attaching  to  the  history  of  a  representative 
man,  for  much  of  the  literature  of  amusement  in  the 
sixteenth  century  was  supplied  by  Bohemians  of  Doni's 
type.  To  give  a  complete  account  of  his  miscella- 
neous works  would  be  out  of  the  question.  Besides 
treatises  on  music  and  the  arts  of  design  and  a  cata- 
logue of  Italian  books,  which  might  be  valuable  if  the 
author  had  not  used  it  as  a  vehicle  for  his  literary 
animosities,  he  published  letters  and  poems,  collections 
of  proverbs  and  short  tales  under  the  title  of  La 
Zucca,  dialogues  and  dissertations  on  various  topics 
with  the  name  of  /  Motidi,  an  essay  on  moral  philos- 
ophy, an  edition  of  Burchiello's  poems  illustrated  by 


MISCELLANEOUS   LITERATURE.  93 

notes  more  difficult  to  understand  than  the  text,  an 
explanation  of  the  Apocalypse  proving  Luther  to  be 
Antichrist,  a  libel  upon  Aretino,  two  commonplace 
books  of  sentences  and  maxims  styled  /  Cancellieri,  a 
work  on  villa-building,  a  series  of  imaginary  pictures, 
a  comedy  called  Lo  Stufaiuolo,  and  many  others  which 
it  would  be  tedious  to  catalogue.  It  is  not  probable 
that  any  one  has  made  a  thorough  study  of  Doni's 
writings ;  but  those  who  know  them  best,  report  that 
they  are  all  marked  by  the  same  sallies  of  capricious 
humor  and  wild  fancy.1 

A  glance  at  the  Marmi  will  suffice  to  illustrate 
Doni's  method  in  these  miscellanies.2  In  his  preface  to 
the  reader  he  says  it  often  happens  that,  awaked  from 
sleep,  he  spends  the  night-hours  in  thinking  of  him- 
self and  of  his  neighbors — "  not,  however,  as  the 
common  folk  do,  nor  like  men  of  learning,  but  follow- 
ing the  whimsies  of  a  teeming  brain.  I  am  at  home, 
you  see.  I  fly  aloft  into  the  air,  above  some  city,  and 
believe  myself  to  be  a  huge  bird,  monstrous,  mon- 
strous, piercing  with  keen  sight  to  everything  that's 
going  on  below;  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  the 
roofs  fly  off,  and  I  behold  each  man,  each  woman  at 
their  several  affairs.  One  is  at  home  and  weeping, 
another  laughing;  one  giving  birth  to  children,  one 
begetting;  this  man  reading,  that  man  writing;  one 
eating,  another  praying.  One  is  scolding  his  house- 
hold, another  playing;  and  see,  yon  fellow  has  fallen 
starved  to  earth,  while  that  one  vomits  his  superfluous 

1  Those  I  am  acquainted  with  are  I  Marmi,  I  Mondi,  Lo  Stufaiuolo, 
the  Novelle,  and  two  little  burlesque  caprices  in  prose,  La  Mitla  and  La 
Chiave, 

2  I  Marmi,  per  Fanfani  e  Bongi,  Firenze,  Barbera,  1863,  i  vols. 


94  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

food!  What  contrasts  are  there  in  one  single  city,  at 
one  single  moment!  Then  I  pass  from  land  to  land, 
and  notice  divers  customs,  with  variety  of  speech  and 
converse.  In  Naples,  for  example,  the  gentry  are 
wont  to  ride  abroad  and  take  the  evening  freshness. 
In  Rome  they  haunt  cool  vineyards,  or  seek  their 
pleasure  by  artificial  fountains.  In  Venice  they  roam 
the  canals  in  dainty  gondolas,  or  sweep  the  salt  lagoons, 
with  music,  women,  and  such  delights,  putting  to  flight 
the  day's  annoyances  and  heat.  But  above  all  other 
pleasures  in  the  cool,  methinks  the  Florentines  do  best. 
Their  way  is  this.  They  have  the  square  of  Santa 
Liberata,  midway  between  the  ancient  shrine  of  Mars, 
now  San  Giovanni,  and  the  marvelous  modern  Duomo. 
They  have,  I  say,  certain  stairs  of  marble,  and  the 
topmost  stair  leads  to  a  large  space,  where  the  young 
men  come  to  rest  in  those  great  heats,  seeing  that  a 
most  refreshing  wind  is  always  blowing  there,  and  a 
delicious  breeze,  and,  besides,  the  fair  white  marbles 
for  the  most  part  keep  their  freshness.  It  is  there  I 
find  my  best  amusements;  for,  as  I  sail  through  the 
air,  invisibly  I  settle,  soaring  over  them ;  and  hear  and 
see  their  talk  and  doings.  And  forasmuch  as  they  are 
all  fine  wits  and  comely,  they  have  a  thousand  lovely 
things  to  say — novels,  stratagems  and  fables ;  they  tell 
of  intrigues,  stories,  jokes,  tricks  played  off  on  men 
and  women — all  things  sprightly,  noble,  noteworthy 
and  fit  for  gentle  ears."  Such  is  the  exordium.  What 
follows,  consists  of  conversations,  held  at  night  upon- 
these  marble  slabs  by  citizens  of  Florence.  The 
dialogue  is  lively;  the  pictures  tersely  etched;  the 
language  racy;  the  matter  almost  always  worthy  of 


THE   MARML 


95 


attention.  One  sustained  dialogue  on  printing  is  par- 
ticularly interesting,  since  it  involves  a  review  of  con- 
temporary literature  from  the  standpoint  of  one  who 
was  himself  exclusively  employed  in  hack  production 
for  the  press.1  The  whole  book,  however,  abounds  in 
excellent  criticism  and  clever  hints.  "  See  what  the 
world  is  coming  to,"  says  one  of  the  speakers,  "when 
no  one  can  read  anything,  full  though  it  be  of  learning 
and  goodness,  without  flinging  it  away  at  the  end  of 
three  words!  More  artifice  than  patience  goes  now- 
adays to  the  writing  of  a  book;  more  racking  the 
brains  to  invent  some  whimsical  title,  which  makes 
one  take  it  up  and  read  a  word  or  two,  than  the  com- 
position of  the  whole  book  demands.  Just  try  and 
tell  people  to  touch  a  volume  labeled  Doctrine  of 
Good  Living  or  The  Spiritual  Life!  God  preserve 
you !  Put  upon  the  title  page  An  Invective  against 
an  Honest  Man,  or  New  Pasquinade,  or  Pimps  Ex- 
pounded, or  The  Whore  Lost,  and  all  the  world  will 
grab  at  it.  If  our  Gelli,  when  he  wanted  to  teach  a 
thousand  fine  things,  full  of  philosophy  and  useful  to  a 
Christian,  had  not  called  them  The  Cobbler  s  Caprices, 
there's  not  a  soul  would  have  so  much  as  touched 
them.  Had  he  christened  his  book  Instructions  in 
Civil  Conduct  or  Divine  Discourses,  it  must  have  fallen 
stillborn;  but  that  Cobbler,  those  Caprices  make 
every  one  cry  out:  'I'll  see  what  sort  of  balderdash 
it  is!'" 

One  might  fancy  that  this  passage  had  been 
written  to  satirize  our  own  times  rather  than  the 
sixteenth  century.  More  than  enough,  however,  re- 

'  Parte  ii.  "  Delia  Stampa." 


96  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

mains  from  the  popular  literature  of  Doni's  days  to 
illustrate  his  observation.  We  have  already  seen  how 
ingeniously  he  titillated  public  curiosity  in  the  title  of 
his  invective  against  Aretino.  "  The  Earthquake  of 
Doniy  the  Florentine,  with  the  Ruin  of  a  Great  Bestial 
Colossus,  the  Antichrist  of  our  Age"  is  worthy  to  take 
rank  among  the  most  capricious  pamphlets  of  the 
English  Commonwealth.  Meanwhile  the  Venetian 
press  kept  pouring  out  stores  of  miscellaneous  infor- 
mation under  bizarre  titles ;  such  as  the  Piazza,  which 
described  all  sorts  of  trades,  including  the  most  infa- 
mous, and  II  PercJie,  which  was  a  kind  of  vulgar 
cyclopaedia,  with  special  reference  to  physiology. 
Manuals  of  domestic  medicine  or  directions  for  the 
toilette,  like  the  curious  Comare  on  obstetrics,  and 
Marinello's  interesting  Ornamenti  delle  Donne;  eccen- 
tricities in  the  style  of  the  Hospidale  de  Pazzi  or  the 
Sinagoga  degli  Ignoranti;  might  be  cited  through  a 
dozen  pages.  It  is  impossible  to  do  justice  to  this 
undergrowth  of  literature,  which  testifies  to  the  extent 
of  the  plebeian  reading  public  in  Italy. 

The  Novelists  of  Siena  form  a  separate  group, 
and  are  distinguished  by  a  certain  air  of  delicate 
voluptuous  grace.1  Siena,  though  it  wears  so  pensive 

1  Novelle  di  Autori  Senesi,  edited  by  Gaetano  Poggiali,  Londra  (Liv- 
orno),  1796.  This  collection,  reprinted  in  the  Raccolta  di  Novellieri 
Jtaliani,  Milano,  1815,  vols.  xiv.  and  xv.,  contains  Bernardo  Illicini, 
Giustiniano  Nelli,  Scipione'Bargagli,  Gentile  Sermini,  Pietro  Fortini, 
and  others.  Of  Sermini's  Novelle  a  complete  edition  appeared  in  1874 
at  Livorno,  from  the  press  of  Francesco  Vigo;  and  to  this  the  student 
should  now  go.  Romagnoli  of  Bologna  in  1877  published  three  hitherto 
inedited  novels  of  Fortini,  together  with  the  rubrics  of  all  those  which 
have  not  yet  been  printed.  Their  titles  enable  us  to  comprehend  the 
scruples  which  prevented  Poggiali  from  issuing  the  whole  series. 


NOVELISTS    OF   SIENA. 


97 


an  aspect  now,  was  famous  in  the  middle  ages  for 
the  refinements  of  sensuality.  It  was  here  that  the 
godereccia  brigata,  condemned  to  Hell  by  Dante, 
spent  their  substance  in  gay  living.  Folgore  da  San 
Gemignano's  pleasure-seeking  Company  was  Sienese. 
Beccadelli  called  the  city  molles  Sena,  and  ^Eneas 
Sylvius  dedicated  her  groves  and  palaces  to  Venus — 
the  Venus  who  appeared  in  dreams  to  Gentile  Ser- 
mini.1  The  impress  of  luxury  is  stamped  upon  the 
works  of  her  best  novelists.  They  blend  the  morbi- 
dezza  of  the  senses  with  a  rare  feeling  for  natural  and 
artistic  beauty.  Descriptions  of  banquets  and  gar- 
dens, fountains  and  wayside  thickets,  form  a  delightful 
background  to  the  never-ending  festival  of  love.  We 
wander  through  pleasant  bypaths  of  Tuscan  country, 
abloom  in  spring  with  acacia  trees  and  resonant  with 
song-birds.  Though  indescribably  licentious,  these 
novelists  are  rarely  coarse  or  vulgar.  There  is  no 
Florentine  blackguardism,  no  acerbity  of  scorn  or  stain 
of  blood-lust  on  their  pages.  They  are  humorous; 
but  they  do  not  season  humor  with  cruelty.  Their 
tales,  for  the  most  part,  are  the  lunes  of  wanton  love, 
day-dreams  of  erotic  fancy,  a  free  debauch  of  images, 
now  laughable,  now  lewd,  but  all  provocative  of  sen- 
sual desire.  At  the  same  time,  their  delight  in  land- 
scape-painting, combined  with  a  certain  refinement  of 
aesthetic  taste,  saves  them  from  the  brutalities  of  lust. 
The  foregoing  remarks  apply  in  their  fullest  exten- 
sion to  Sermini  and  Fortini.  The  best  passages  from 
the  Ars  Amandi  of  these  authors  admit  of  no  quotation. 
Attention,  may,  however,  be  called  to  the  graphic  de- 

1  Imbasciata  di  Venere,  Sermini,  ed.  cit.  p.  117. 


98  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

scription  by  Sermini  of  the  Sienese  boxing-matches.1 
It  is  a  masterpiece  of  vigorous  dialogue  and  lively 
movement — a  little  drama  in  epitome  or  profile,  bring- 
ing the  excitement  of  the  champions  and  their  backers 
vividly  before  us  by  a  series  of  exclamations  and 
ejaculated  sentences.  Fortini  does  not  offer  the  same 
advantage  to  a  modest  critic;  yet  his  handling  of  a 
very  comic  situation  in  the  fourteenth  Novella  may 
be  conveniently  compared  with  Firenzuola's  and  II 
Lasca's  treatment  of  the  same  theme.2  Those,  too, 
who  are  curious  in  such  matters,  may  trace  the  corre- 
spondences between  his  twelfth  Novella  and  many 
similar  subjects  in  the  Cent  nouvelles  Nouvelles.  The 
common  material  of  a  fabliau  is  here  Italianized  with 
an  exquisite  sense  of  plastic  and  landscape  beauty; 
and  the  crude  obscenity  of  the  motif  craves  pardon 
for  the  sake  of  its  rare  setting. 

Bargagli's  tales  are  less  offensive  to  modern  no- 
tions of  propriety  than  either  Sermini's  or  Fortini's. 
They  do  not  detach  themselves  from  the  average  of 
such  compositions  by  any  peculiarly  Sienese  quality. 
But  his  Trattenimenti  are  valuable  for  their  introduc- 
tion, which  consists  of  a  minute  and  pathetically  sim- 
ple narrative  of  the  sufferings  sustained  by  the  Sienese 
during  the  siege  of  i553.  Boccaccio's  description  of 
the  Plague  at  Florence  was  in  Bargagli's  mind,  when 
he  made  this  unaffected  record  of  a  city's  agony  the 
frontispiece  to  tales  of  mirth  and  passion.  Though 
somewhat  out  of  place,  it  has  the  interest  which  be- 
longs to  the  faithful  history  of  an  eyewitness. 

1  n  Giuoco  della  pugna,  Sermini,  ed.  cit.  p.  105. 

8  See  Le  Cent,  pt.  ii.  Nov.  10,  and  Firenzuola's  seventh  Novella. 


BARGALLI  AND   ILLICINI.  99 

One  beautiful  story,  borrowed  from  the  annals  of 
their  own  city,  was  treated  by  the  two  Sienese  novel- 
ists, Illicini  and  Sermini.  The  palm  of  excellence, 
however,  must  be  awarded  to  the  elder  of  these  authors. 
Of  Bernardo  Lapini,  surnamed  Illicini  or  Ollicino, 
very  little  is  known,  except  that  he  served  both  Gian 
Galeazzo  Visconti  and  Borso  da  Este  in  the  capacity 
of  physician,  and  composed  a  commentary  on  the 
Trionfi  of  Petrarch.  His  Novella  opens  with  a  con- 
versation between  certain  noble  ladies  of  Siena,  who 
agreed  that  the  three  most  eminent  virtues  of  a  gener- 
ous nature  are  courtesy,  gratitude,  and  liberality.  An 
ancient  dame,  who  kept  them  company  on  that  occa- 
sion, offered  to  relate  a  tale,  which  should  illustrate 
these  qualities  and  raise  certain  fine  questions  concern- 
ing their  exercise  in  actual  life.  The  two  Sienese  fami- 
lies De'  Salimbeni  and  De'  Montanini  had  long  been 
on  terms  of  coldness;  and  though  their  ancient  feuds 
were  passing  into  oblivion,  no  treaty  of  peace  had  yet 
been  ratified  between  their  houses,  when  Anselmo 
Salimbeni  fell  deeply  in  love  with  Angelica  the  only 
sister  of  Carlo  Montanini.  Anselmo  was  wealthy;  but 
to  Carlo  and  his  sister  there  only  remained,  of  their 
vast  ancestral  possessions,  one  small  estate,  where  they 
lived  together  in  retirement.  Delicacy  thus  prevented 
the  rich  Anselmo  from  declaring  his  affection,  until  an 
event  happened  which  placed  it  in  his  power  to  be  of 
signal  service  to  the  Montanini.  A  prosperous  mem- 
ber of  the  Sienese  government  desired  to  purchase 
Carlo's  house  at  the  price  of  one  thousand  ducats. 
Carlo  refused  to  sell  this  estate,  seeing  it  was  his  sis- 
ter's only  support  and  future  source  of  dowry.  There- 


100  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

upon  the  powerful  man  of  state  accused  him  falsely  of 
treason  to  the  commonwealth.  He  was  cast  into  prison 
and  condemned  to  death  or  the  forfeit  of  one  thou- 
sand ducats.  Anselmo,  the  very  night  before  Carlo's 
threatened  execution,  paid  this  fine,  and  sent  the  deed 
of  release  by  the  hands  of  a  servant  to  the  prison. 
When  Carlo  was  once  more  at  liberty,  he  made  in- 
quiries which  proved  beyond  doubt  that  Anselmo,  a 
man  unknown  to  him,  the  member  of  a  house  at  ancient 
feud  with  his,  had  done  him  this  great  courtesy.  It 
then  rushed  across  his  mind  that  certain  acts  and  ges- 
tures of  Anselmo  betrayed  a  secret  liking  for  Angelica. 
This  decided  him  upon  the  course  he  had  to  take. 
Having  communicated  the  plan  to  his  sister,  he  went 
alone  with  her  at  night  to  Salimbeni's  castle,  and,  when 
he  had  expressed  his  gratitude,  there  left  her  in  her 
lover's  power,  as  the  most  precious  thing  he  could 
bestow  upon  the  saviour  of  his  life.  Anselmo,  not  to  be 
surpassed  in  this  exchange  of  courtesies,  delivered 
Angelica  to  the  women  of  his  household,  and  after- 
wards, attended  by  the  train  of  his  retainers,  sought 
Carlo  in  his  home.  There  he  made  a  public  state- 
ment of  what  had  passed  between  them,  wedded 
Angelica  with  three  rings,  dowered  her  with  the  half 
of  his  estates,  and  by  a  formal  deed  of  gift  assigned 
the  residue  of  his  fortune  to  Carlo.  This  is  a  bare 
outline  of  the  story,  which  Illicini  has  adorned  in  all 
its  details  with  subtle"  analyses  of  feeling  and  reflec- 
tions on  the  several  situations.  The  problem  pro- 
posed to  the  gentlewomen  is  to  decide  which  of  the 
two  men,  Anselmo  or  Carlo,  showed  the  more  per- 
fect courtesy  in  their  several  circumstances.  How 


CORNAZANO   AND    STRAPAROLA.  lot 

they  settled   this   knotty  point,  may   be   left   to  the 
readers  of  Novelle  to  discover. 

Bandello  more  than  adequately  represents  the 
Lombard  group  of  novelists ;  and  since  his  works 
have  been  already  discussed,  it  will  suffice  to  allude 
briefly  to  three  collections  which  in  their  day  were 
highly  popular.  These  are  /  Proverbi  of  Antonio 
Cornazano,  Le  Piacevoli  Notti  of  Straparola,  and 
Giraldi's  Hecatommithi?-  Cornazano  was  a  copious 
writer  both  in  Latin  and  Italian.  He  passed  his  life 
at  the  Courts  of  Francesco  Sforza,  Bartolommeo 
Colleoni,  and  Ercole  I.  of  Ferrara.  One  of  his  earliest 
compositions  was  a  Life  of  Christ.  This  fact  is  not 
insignificant,  as  a  sign  of  the  conditions  under  which 
literature  was  produced  in  the  Renaissance.  A  man 
who  had  gained  reputation  by  a  learned  or  religious 
treatise,  ventured  to  extend  it  by  jests  of  the  broadest 
humor.  The  Proverbi,  by  which  alone  Cornazano's 
name  is  now  distinguished,  are  sixteen  carefully- 
wrought  stories,  very  droll  but  very  dirty.  Each 
illustrates  a  common  proverb,  and  pretends  to  relate 
the  circumstances  which  gave  it  currency.  The  author 
opens  one  tale  with  a  simple  statement :  "  From  the 
deserts  of  the  Thebaid  came  to  us  that  trite  and  much 
used  saying,  Better  late  than  never;  and  this  was  how 
it  happened."  Having  stated  the  theme,  he  enters 
on  his  narrative,  diverts  attention  by  a  series  of  absur- 

1  None  of  them  are  included  in  the  Milanese  Novellieri  Italiani. 
The  editions  I  shall  use  are  Proverbii  di  Messer  Antonio  Cornazano 
in  Facetie,  Bologna,  Romagnoli,  1865;  Le  Piacevoli  Notti,  in  Vinegia 
per  Comin  da  Trino  di  Monferrato,  MDLL;  Gli  Hecatommithi  di 
M.  Giovanbattista  Giraldi  Cinthio,  Nobile  Ferrarese,  in  Vinegia, 
MDLXVI.,  Girolamo  Scotto,  2  vols. 


102  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

dities  which  lead  to  an  unexpected  climax.  He  con- 
cludes it  thus :  "  The  abbot  answered :  '  It  is  not  this 
which  makes  me  weep,  but  to  think  of  my  misfortune, 
who  have  been  so  long  without  discovering  and  com- 
mending so  excellent  an  usage.'  '  Father,'  said  the 
monk,  'Better  late  than  never' "  There  is  considerable 
comic  vigor  in  the  working  of  this  motive.  Our  sense 
of  the  ridiculous  is  stimulated  by  a  studied  dispropor- 
tion between  the  universality  of  the  proverb  and  the 
strangeness  of  the  incidents  invented  to  account  for  it. 
Straparola  breaks  ground  in  a  different  direction. 
The  majority  of  his  novels  bear  traces  of  their  origin 
in  fairy  stories  or  Volksmarchen.  Much  interest  at- 
taches to  the  Notti  Piacevoli,  as  the  literary  reproduc- 
tion of  a  popular  species  which  the  Venetian  Gozzi 
afterwards  rendered  famous.  Students  of  folk-lore  may 
compare  them  with  the  Sicilian  fables  recently  com- 
mitted to  the  press  by  Signer  Pitre.1  The  element 
of  bizarre  fancy  is  remarkable  in  all  these  tales;  but 
the  marvelous  has  been  so  mingled  with  the  facts  of 
common  life  as  to  give  each  narrative  the  true  air  of  the 
conventional  Novella.  One  in  particular  may  be  men- 
tioned, since  it  is  written  on  the  same  motive  as  Machia- 
velli's  Belphegor.  The  rubric  runs  as  follows :  "  The 
Devil,  hearing  the  complaints  of  husbands  against  their 
wives,  marries  Silvia  Ballastrb,  and  takes  Gasparino 
Boncio  for  gossip  of  the.  ring,  and  forasmuch  as  he  finds 
it  impossible  to  live  with  his  wife,  enters  into  the  body 

i  Fiabe,  Novelle,  Racconti,  Palermo,  Lauriel,  1875,  4  yols.  I  may 
here  take  occasion  to  notice  that  one  Novella  by  the  Conte  Lorenzo 
Magalotti  (Nov.  It.  vol.  xiii.  p.  362),  is  the  story  of  Whittington  and  his 
Cat,  told  of  a  certain  Florentine,  Ansaldo  degli  Ormanni,  and  the  King 
of  the  Canary  Islands. 


STORY   OF  BELPHEGOR.  103 

of  the  Duke  of  Melphi,  and  Gasparino,  his  gossip,  ex- 
pels him  thence."  Between  Straparola's  and  Machia- 
velli's  treatment  of  this  subject,  the  resemblance  is  so 
close  as  to  justify  the  opinion  that  the  former  tale  was 
simply  modeled  on  the  latter,  or  that  both  were  drawn 
from  an  original  source.  In  each  case  it  is -the  wife's 
pride  which  renders  life  unendurable  to  her  demon 
husband,  and  in  both  he  is  expelled  from  the  possessed 
person  by  mistaking  a  brass  band  in  full  play  for  the 
approach  of  his  tumultuous  consort.  But  Straparola's 
loose  and  careless  style  of  narrative  bears  no  com- 
parison with  the  caustic  satire  of  Machiavelli's  medi- 
tated art.1  The  same  theme  was  treated  in  Italian  by 
Giovanni  Brevio;  and  since  Machiavelli's  novel  first 
appeared  in  print  in  the  year  1549,  Straparola's  seeing 
the  light  in  i55o,  and  Brevio's  in  i545,  we  may 
reasonably  conclude  that  each  version  was  an  adapta- 
tion of  some  primitive  monastic  story.2 

On  the  score  of  style  alone,  it  would  be  difficult  to 
explain  the  widespread  popularity  of  Giraldi  Cinthio's 
one  hundred  and  ten  tales.3  The  Hecatommithi  are 
written  in  a  lumbering  manner,  and  the  stories  are 
often  lifeless.  Compared  with  the  brilliancy  of  the 
Tuscan  Novelle,  the  point  and  sparkle  of  Le  Cene>  the 

i  John  Wilson's  play  of  Belphegor,  Dekker's  If  it  be  not  good  the 
Di-vel  is  in  it,  and  Ben  Jonson's  The  Devil  is  an  Ass,  were  more  or 
less  founded  on  Machiavelli's  and  Straparola's  novels. 

*  Dunlop  in  his  History  of  Fiction,  vol.  ii.  p.  411,  speaks  of  a  Latin 
MS.  preserved  in  the  library  of  S.  Martin  at  Tours  which  contained  the 
tale,  but  he  also  says  that  it  was  lost  at  "  the  period  of  the  civil  wars  in 
France." 

a  The  title  leads  us  to  expect  one  hundred  tales;  but  counting  the  ten  of 
the  Introduction,  there  are  one  hundred  and  ten.  When  the  book  first  cir- 
culated, it  contained  but  seventy.  The  first  edition  is  that  of  Monte  Regale 
in  Sicily,  1565.  My  copy  of  the  Venetian  edition  of  1566  is  complete. 


104  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

grace  and  gusto  of  Sermini,  or  Firenzuola's  golden 
fluency,  the  diction  of  this  noble  Ferrarese  is  dull. 
Yet  the  Hccatommithi  were  reprinted  again  and  again, 
and  translated  into  several  languages.  In  England, 
through  Painter's  Palace  of  Pleasure,  they  obtained 
wide  circulation  and  supplied  our  best  dramatists,  in- 
cluding Shakspere  and  Fletcher,  with  hints  for  plays. 
It  is  probable  that  they  owed  their  fame  in  no  small 
measure  to  what  we  reckon  their  defects.  Giraldi's 
language  was  more  intelligible  to  ordinary  readers  of 
Italian  than  the  racy  Tuscan  of  the  Sienese  authors. 
His  stories  had  less  of  a  purely  local  flavor  than 
those  of  the  Florentines.  They  enjoyed,  moreover, 
the  singular  advantage  of  diffusion  through  the  press 
of  Venice,  which  then  commanded  the  book-market  of 
Europe.  But,  if  we  put  this  point  of  style  aside,  the 
vogue  of  Cinthio  in  Italy  and  Europe  becomes  at  once 
intelligible.  There  is  a  massive  force  and  volume  in  his 
matter,  which  proclaims  him  an  author  to  be  reckoned 
with.  The  variety  of  scenes  he  represents,  the  tragic 
gravity  of  many  of  his  motives,  his  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  the  manners  and  customs  of  a  class  that 
never  fails  to  interest  the  vulgar,  combined  with  great 
sagacity  in  selecting  and  multiplying  instances  of 
striking  crime,  stood  him  in  the  stead  of  finer  art 
with  the  special  public  for  whom  Novelle  were  com- 
posed.1 Compared  even  with  Boccaccio,  the  prince  of 
story-tellers,  Cinthio  holds  his  own,  not  as  a  great 
dramatic  or  descriptive  writer  but  as  one  who  has 

>  -The  ten  novels  of  the  Introduction  deal  exclusively  with  the  man- 
ners of  Italian  prostitutes.  Placed  as  a  frontispiece  to  the  whole  reper- 
tory, they  seem  intended  to  attract  the  vulgar  reader. 


GIRALDPS  HECATOMMITHL  105 

studied,  analyzed,  dissected,  and  digested  the  material 
of  human  action  and  passion  in  a  vast  variety  of 
modes.  His  work  is  more  solid  and  reflective  than 
Bandello's;  more  moralized  than  II  Lasca's.  The 
ethical  tendency  both  of  the  tales  and  the  discussions 
they  occasion,  is,  for  the  most  part,  singularly  whole- 
some. In  spite,  therefore,  of  the  almost  revolting 
frankness  with  which  impurity,  fraud,  cruelty,  vio- 
lence, and  bestial  lust  are  exposed  to  view,  one  rises 
from  the  perusal  of  the  Hecatommithi  with  an  unim- 
paired consciousness  of  good  and  evil.  It  is  just  the 
negation  of  this  conscience  which  renders  the  mass  of 
Italian  Novelle  worse  than  unprofitable. 

The  plan  of  the  Hecatommithi  deserves  a  passing 
notice,  if  only  because  it  illustrates  the  more  than  ordi- 
nary force  of  brain  which  Cinthio  brought  to  bear 
upon  his  light  material.  He  begins  with  an  elaborate 
description  of  the  Sack  of  Rome.  A  party  of  men 
and  women  take  refuge  from  its  horrors  of  rape,  pesti- 
lence and  tortures  in  one  of  the  Colonna  palaces. 
When  affairs  have  been  proved  desperate,  they  set 
sail  from  Civita  Vecchia  for  Marseilles,  and  enliven 
their  voyage  with  story-telling.  A  man  of  mature 
years  opens  the  discussion  with  a  long  panegyric  of 
wedded  love,  serving  as  introduction  to  the  tales 

o 

which  treat  of  illicit  passion.  From  this  first  day's 
debate  the  women  of  the  party  are  absent.  They 
intervene  next  day,  and  upon  this  and  the  following 
nine  days  one  hundred  stories  are  related  by  different 
members  of  the  party  upon  subjects  selected  for  illus- 
tration. Each  novel  is  followed  by  a  copious  commen- 
tary in  the  form  of  dialogue,  and  songs  are  inter- 


106  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

spersed.  Cinthio  thus  adhered,  as  closely  as  possible, 
to  the  model  furnished  by  Boccaccio.  But  his  frame- 
work, though  ingeniously  put  together,  lacks  the  grace 
and  sweetness  of  the  Decameron.  Not  a  few  of  the 
novels  are  founded  upon  facts  of  history.  In  the 
tenth  tale  of  the  ninth  decade,  for  example,  he  repeats 
the  legend  of  the  Borgia  family — the  murder  of  the 
Duke  of  Gandia,  Alexander's  death  by  poison,  and 
Cesare's  escape.  The  names  are  changed;  but  the 
facts,  as  related  by  Guicciardini,  can  be  clearly  dis- 
cerned through  the  transparent  veil  of  fiction. 

In  concluding  this  chapter  on  the  Novelle,  it  may 
be  repeated  that  the  species  of  narrative  in  question 
was,  in  its  ultimate  development,  a  peculiar  Italian 
product.  Originally  derived  through  the  French 
fabliaux  from  medieval  Latin  stories,  the  Novella 
received  in  Italy  more  serious  and  more  artistic  treat- 
ment. It  satisfied  the  craving  of  the  race  for  such 
delineation  of  life  and  manners  as  a  great  literature 
demands;  and  it  did  this,  for  reasons  which  will  be 
explained  in  the  next  chapter,  with  more  originality, 
more  adequacy  to  the  special  qualities  of  the  Italian 
people,  than  even  their  comedies.  What  De  Quincey 
wrote  concerning  our  theater  in  the  age  of  Elizabeth 
and  James,  might  almost  be  applied  to  the  material 
which  the  Novellieri  used :  "  No  literature,  not  except- 
ing even  that  of  Athens,  has  ever  presented  such  a 
multiform  theater,  such  a  carnival  display,  mask  and 
antimask  of  impassioned  life — breathing,  moving, 
acting,  suffering,  laughing : 

Quicquid  agunt  homines — votum,  timor,  ira,  voluptas, 
Gaudia,  discursus." 


SCOPE    OF   THE   NOVELLE.  1 07 

But,  when  we  quit  material  to  think  of  form,  the 
parallel  fails.  De  Quincey's  further  description  of  our 
dramas,  "scenically  grouped,  draped,  and  gorgeously 
colored,"  is  highly  inapplicable  to  the  brief,  careless, 
almost  pedestrian  prose  of  the  Novelle.  In  spite  of 
their  indescribable  wealth  of  subject-matter,  in  spite 
of  those  inexhaustible  stores  of  plots  and  situations, 
characters  and  motives,  which  have  made  them  a  mine 
for  playwrights  in  succeeding  ages,  they  rarely  rise  to 
the  height  of  poetry,  nor  are  they  ever  dramas.  The 
artistic  limitations  of  the  Italian  Novelle  are  among 
the  most  interesting  phenomena  presented  by  the 
history  of  literature. 


UNIVERSITY;! 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE    DRAMA. 

First  attempts  at  Secular  Drama — The  Orfeo  and  Timone — General 
Character  of  Italian  Plays — Court  Pageants  and  Comedies  borrowed 
from  the  Latin — Conditions  under  which  a  National  Drama  is  formed 
— Their  absence  in  Italy — Lack  of  Tragic  Genius — Eminently  Tragic 
Material  in  Italian  History — The  Use  made  of  this  by  English  Play- 
wrights— The  Ballad  and  the  Drama — The  Humanistic  Bias  in  Italy 
— Parallels  between  Greek  and  Italian  Life — II  Lasca's  Critique  of  the 
Latinizing  Playwrights — The  Sofonisba  of  Trissino — Rucellai's  Ros~ 
munda — Sperone's  Canace — Giraldi's  Orbecche — Dolce's  Marianna 
— Transcripts  from  the  Greek  Tragedians  and  Seneca — General  Char- 
acter of  Italian  Tragedies — Sources  of  their  Failure — Influence  of 
Plautus  and  Terence  over  Comedy — Latin  Comedies  acted  at  Florence, 
Rome,  Ferrara — Transitions  of  Latin  Comedies — Manner  of  Repre- 
sentation at  Court — Want  of  Permanent  Theaters — Bibbiena's  Calan- 
dra — Leo  X.  and  Comedy  at  Rome — Ariosto's  Treatment  of  his  Latin 
Models — The  Cassaria,  Suppositi,  Lena,  Negromante,  Scolastica — 
Qualities  ot  Ariosto's  Comedies — Machiavelli's  Plays — The  Commedia 
in  Prosa — Fra  Alberigo  and  Margherita — The  Clizia — Its  Humor — 
The  Mandragola — Its  sinister  Philosophy — Conditions  under  which 
it  was  Composed — Aretino  disengages  Comedy  from  Latin  Rules — 
His  Point  of  View — The  Cortegiana,Marescalco,  Talanta — Italy  had 
innumerable  Comedies,  but  no  great  Comic  Art — General  Character 
of  the  Commedia  Erudita — Its  fixed  Personages — Gelli,  Firenzuola, 
Cecchi,  Ambra,  II  Lasca — The  Farsa — Conclusion  on  the  Moral  As- 
pects of  Italian  Comedy. 

;  CONTEMPORANEOUSLY  with  the  Romantic  Epic,  the 
\JDrama  began  to  be  a  work  of  studied  art  in  Italy. 
Boiardo  by  his  Timone  and  Poliziano  by  his  Orfeo 
gave  the  earliest  specimens  at  Ferrara  and  Mantua 
of  secular  plays  written  in  the  vulgar  tongue.  The 
Timone  must  have  been  composed  before  1494,  the 
date  of  Boiardo's  death;  and  we  have  already  seen 


THE    TIMONE   AND    ORFEO.  IOQ 

that  the  Orfeo  was  in  all  probability  represented  in 
1472.  It  is  significant  that  the  two  poets  who  were 
mainly  instrumental  in  effecting  a  revival  of  Italian 
poetry,  should  have  tried  their  hands  at  two  species  of 
composition  for  the  stage.  In  the  Orfeo  we  find  a 
direct  outgrowth  from  the  Sacre  Rappresentazioni. 
The  form  of  the  Florentine  religious  show  is  adapted 
with  very  little  alteration  to  a  pagan  story.  In  sub- 
stance the  Orfeo  is  a  pastoral  melodrama  with  a  tragic 
climax.  Boiardo  in  the  Timone  followed  a  different 
direction.  The  subject  is  borrowed  from  Lucian,  who 
speaks  the  prologue,  as  Gower  prologizes  in  the 
Pericles  of  Shakspere.  The  comedy  aims  at  regu- 
larity of  structure,  and  is  written  in  terza  rima.  Yet 
the  chief  character  leaves  the  stage  before  the  end  of 
the  fifth  act,  and  the  conclusion  is  narrated  by  an 
allegorical  personage,  Lo  Ausilio.1 

These  plays,  though  generally  considered  to  have 
been  the  first  attempts  at  secular  Italian  dramatic 
poetry,  were  by  no  means  the  earliest  in  date,  if  we 
admit  the  Latin  plays  of  scholars.2  Besides  some 

1  "  Comedia  de  Timone  per  el  Magnifico  Conte  Matheo  Maria  Boyardo 
Conte  de  Scandiano  traducta  de  uno  Dialogo  de  Luciano.    Stampata  in 
Venetia  per  Georgio  di  Rusconi  Milanese,  del  MDXVIII.  adi  iii  di  De- 
cembre."     From  the  play  itself  we  learn  that  it  must  have  been  repre- 
sented on  a  double  stage,  a  lower  one  standing  for  earth  and  a  higher 
one  for  heaven.     The  first  three  acts  consist  chiefly  of  soliloquies  by 
Timon  and   conversations  with  celestial   personages — Jove,  Mercury, 
Wealth,  Poverty.     In  the  fourth  act  we  are  introduced  to  characters  of 
Athenians — Gnatonide,  Phylade,  Demea,  Trasycle,  who  serve  to  bring 
Timone's  misanthropy  into  relief;  and  the  fifth  act  brings  two  slaves, 
Syro  and  Parmeno,  upon  the  scene,  with  a  kind  of  underplot  which  is  not 
solved  at  the  close  of  the  play.    The  whole  piece  must  be  regarded  rather 
as  a  Morality  than  a  Comedy,  and  the  characters  are  allegories  or  types 
more  than  living  persons. 

2  To  determine  the  question  of  priority  in  such  matters  is  neither  easy 


1 10  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

tragedies,  which  will  afterwards  be  mentioned,  it  is 
enough  here  to  site  the  Philogenia  of  Ugolino  Pisani 
(Parma,  1430),  the  Philodoxius  of  Alberti,  the  Polissena 
of  Leonardo  Bruni,  and  the  Progne  of  Gregorio  Cor- 
rado.  It  is  therefore  a  fact  that,  in  addition  to  reli- 
gious dramas  in  the  mother  tongue,  the  Italians  from 
an  early  period  turned  their  attention  to  dramatic 
composition.  Still  the  drama  never  flourished  at  any 
time  in  Italy  as  a  form  of  poetry  indigenous  and 
national.  It  did  not  succeed  in  freeing  itself  from 
classical  imitation  on  the  one  hand,  or  on  the  other 
from  the  hampering  adjuncts  of  Court- pageants  and 
costly  entertainments.  Why  the  Italians  failed  to 
develop  a  national  theater,  is  a  question  easier  to  ask 
than  to  answer.  The  attempt  to  solve  this  problem 
will,  however,  serve  to  throw  some  light  upon  their 
intellectual  conditions  at  the  height  of  the  Renais- 
sance. 

Plays  in  Italy  at  this  period  were  either  religious 
Feste  of  the  kind  peculiar  to  Florence,  or  Masks  at 
Court,  or  Comedies  and  Tragedies  imitated  by  men  of 
learning  from  classical  models,  or,  lastly,  Pastorals  com- 
bining the  scenic  attractions  of  the  Mask  with  the 
action  of  a  regular  drama.  None  of  these  five  species 
can  be  called  in  a  true  sense  popular;  nor  were  they 
addressed  by  their  authors  to  the  masses  of  the  people. 
Performed  in  private  J)y  pious  confraternities  or  erudite 
academies,  or  exhibited  on  state  occasions  in  the  halls 
of  princely  palaces,  they  were  not  an  expression  of  the 

nor  important.  Students  who  desire  to  follow  the  gradual  steps  in  the 
development  of  Italian  play-writing  before  the  date  of  Ariosto  and  Ma- 
chiavelli  may  be  referred  to  Df  Ancona's  work  on  the  Origini  del  Teatro, 


CONDITIONS    OF   THE   ITALIAN  DRAMA.  m 

national  genius  but  a  highly-cultivated  form  of  aristo- 
cratic luxury.  When  Heywood  in  his  prologue  to  the 
Challenge  for  Beauty  wrote : 

Those  [/.  e.  plays]  that  frequent  are 
In  Italy  or  France,  even  in  these  days, 
Compared  with  ours,  are  rather  jigs  than  plays: 

when  Marlowe  in  the  first  scene  of  Edward  II. 
made  Gaveston,  thinking  how  he  may  divert  the 
pleasure-loving  king,  exclaim : 

Therefore  I'll  have  Italian  masks  by  night, 
Sweet  speeches,  comedies,  and  pleasing  shows: 

both  of  these  poets  uttered  a  true  criticism  of  the 
Italian  theater.  Marlowe  accurately  describes  the 
scenic  exhibitions  in'  vogue  at  the  Courts  of  Ferrara, 
Mantua,  Urbino,  and  Rome,  where  the  stage  was 
reckoned  among  the  many  instruments  of  wanton 
amusement.  Heywood,  by  his  scornful  phrase  jigs, 
indicates  their  mixed  nature  between  comedies  and 
ballets,  with  interludes  of  pageantry  and  accompani- 
ment of  music.  The  words  italicized  show  that  the 
English  playwrights  were  conscious  of  having  de- 
veloped a  nobler  type  of  the  drama  than  had  been 
produced  in  Italy.  In  order  to  complete  the  outline 
sketched  by  Heywood  and  Marlowe,  we  must  bear  in 
mind  that  comedies  adapted  from  the  Latin,  like  the 
Suppositi  of  Ariosto,  or  constructed  upon  Latin  prin- 
ciples, like  Machiavelli's  Mandragola  or  the  Calandra 
of  Bibbiena,  were  highly  relished  by  a  society  educated 
in  humanistic  traditions.  Such  efforts  of  the  scholarly 
muse  approved  themselves  even  in  England  to  the 
taste  of  critics  like  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  who  shows  in 
his  Defense  of  Poesy  that  he  had  failed  to  discern  the 


lit  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

future  greatness  of  the  national  drama.  But  they  had 
the  fatal  defect  of  being  imitations  and  exotics.  The 
stage,  however  learnedly  adorned  by  men  of  scholar- 
ship and  fancy,  remained  within  the  narrow  sphere  of 
courtly  pastime.  What  was  a  mere  hors  d'oeuvre  in 
the  Elizabethan  age  of  England,  formed  the  whole 
dramatic  art  of  the  Italians. 

If  tragedy  and  comedy  sprang  by  a  natural  pro- 
cess of  evolution  from  the  medieval  Mystery,  then  the 
Florentines  should  have  had  a  drama.  We  have  seen 
how  rich  in  the  elements  of  both  species  were  the 
Sacre  Rappresentazioni ;  and  how  men  of  culture  like 
Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  and  Bernardo  Pulci  deigned  to 
compose  them.  But  the  Sacre  Rappresentazioni  died 
a  natural  death,  and  left  no  heritage.  They  had 
no  vital  relation  to  the  people,  either  as  a  source  of 
amusement  or  as  embodying  the  real  thoughts  and 
passions  of  the  race.  Designed  for  the  edification 
of  youth,  their  piety  was  too  often  hypocritical,  and 
their  extravagant  monastic  morality  stood  in  glaring 
opposition  to  the  ethics  of  society.  We  must  go  far 
deeper  in  our  analysis,  if  we  wish  to  comprehend  this 
failure  of  the  Italians  to  produce  a  drama. 

Three  conditions,  enjoyed  by  Greece  and  Eng- 
land, but  denied  Jo  Italy,  seem  necessary  for  the 
poetry  of  a  nation  to  reach  this  final  stage  of  artistic 
development.  The  first  is  a  free  and  "sympathetic 
public,  not  made  up  of  courtiers  and  scholars,  but  of 
men  of  all  classes — a  public  representative  of  the 
wEoTe~~nation,  with  whom  the  playwright  shall  fed 
himself  in  close  rapport.  The  second  is,  a  center  of 
social  life :  an  Athens,  Paris  l>r  London :  where  the 


CONDITIONS    OF   GREAT  DRAMA.  113 

heart  of  the  nation  beats  and  where  its  brain  is  ever 
active.  The  third  is  a  perturbation  of  the  race  in 
some  great  effort,  like  the  Persian  war  or  the  struggle 
of  the^Reformation,  which  unites  the  people  in  a  com- 
mon consciousness  of  heroism.  Taken  in  combina- 
tion, these  three  conditions  explain  the  appearance  of 
a  drama  fitted  to  express  the  very  life  and  soul  of  a 
puissant  nation,  with  the  temper  of  the  times  im- 
pressed upon  it,  but  with  a  truth  and  breadth  that 
renders  it  the  heritage  of  every  race  and  age.  A 
national  drama  is  the  image  created  for  itself  in  art  by 
a  people  which  has  arrived  at  knowledge  of  its  power, 
at  the  enjoyment  of  its  faculties,  after  a  period  of 
successful  action.  Concentrated  in  a  capital,  gifted 
with  a  common  instrument  of  self-expression,  it  pro- 
jects itself  in  tragedies  and  comedies  that  bear  the 
name  of  individual  poets,  but  are  in  reality  the  spirit 
of  the  race  made  vocal.1 

These  conditions  have  only  twice  in  the  world's 
history  existed — once  in  the  Athens  of  Pericles,  once 
in  the  London  of  Elizabeth.  The  measure  of  great- 
ness to  which  the  dramas  of  Paris  and  Madrid,  though 
still  not  comparable  with  the  Attic  and  the  English, 
can  lay  claim,  is  due  to  the  participation  by  the  French 
and  Spanish  peoples  in  these  privileges.  But  in  Italy 
there  was  no  public,  no  metropolis,  no  agitation  of  the 
people  in  successful  combat  with  antagonistic  force. 
The  educated  classes  were,  indeed,  conscious  of  intel- 
Jectual  unity;  but  they  had  no  meeting-point  in  any 

1  I  have  enlarged  on  these  points  in  my  Essay  on  Euripides  (Greek 
Poets,  Series  i.).  I  may  take  occasion  here  to  say  that  until  Sept.  1879, 
after  this  chapter  was  written,  I  had  not  met  with  Professor  Hillebrand's 
Etudes  Italiennes  (Paris,  Franck,  1868). 


114  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

city,  where  they  might  have  developed  the  theater 
upon  the  only  principles  then  possible,  the  principles 
of  erudition.  And,  what  was  worse,  there  existed  no 
enthusiasms,  moral,  religious  or  political,  from  which 
a  drama  could  arise.  A  society  without  depth  of 
thought  or  seriousness  of  passion,  highly  cultured,  but 
devoid  of  energy  and  aspiration,  had  not  the  seed  of 
tragedy  within  its  loins.  In  those  polite  Italian  Courts 
and  pleasure-seeking  coteries,  the  idyl,  the  Novella, 
and  the  vision  of  a  golden  age  might  entertain  men 
weary  with  public  calamities,  indulgent  to  the  vice  and 
crime  around  them.  From  this  soil  the  forest-trees  of 
a  great  drama  could  not  spring.  But  it  yielded  an 
abundant  crop  of  comedies,  an  undergrowth  of  rankly 
sprouting  vegetation.  It  was,  moreover,  well  adapted 
to  the  one  original  production  of  the  Italian  stage. 
Pastoral  comedy,  attaining  perfection  in  Tasso's 
Aminta  and  Guarini's  Pastor  Fido,  and  bearing  the 
germs  of  the  Opera  in  its  voluptuous  scenes,  formed 
the  climax  of  dramatic  art  in  Italy. 

Independently  of  these  external  drawbacks,  we 
find  in  the  nature  of  the  Italian  genius  a  reason  why 
the  drama  never  reached  perfection.  Tragedy,  which  is 
the  soul  of  great  dramatic  poetry,  was  almost  uniformly 
wanting  after  Dante.  Petrarch,  Boccaccio,  Poliziano, 
Boiardo,  Ariosto,  Tasso,  are  pathetic,  graceful,  polished, 
elevated,  touching,  witty,  humorous,  reflective,  radiant, 
inventive,  fanciful — everything  but  stern,  impassioned, 
tragic  in  the  true  heroic  sense.  Even  the  Florentines, 
who  dallied  sometimes  with  the  thoughts  of  Death 
and  Judgment  in  bizarre  pageants  like  the  show  of 
Hell  recorded  by  Villani,  or  the  Mask  of  Penitence 


LACK  OF  STERNER   PASSION.  115 

designed  by  Piero  di  Cosimo,  or  the  burlesque  festivals 
recorded  in  the  life  of  Rustici  by  Giorgio  Vasari — 
even  the  Florentines  shrank  in  literature  from  what  is 
terrible  and  charged  with  anguish  of  the  soul.  The 
horrors  of  the  Novelle  are  used  by  them  to  stimulate  a 
jaded  appetite,  to  point  the  pleasures  of  the  sense  by 
contrast  with  the  shambles  and  the  charnel-house. 
We  are  never  invited  to  the  spectacle  of  human  ener- 
gies ravaged  by  passion,  at  war  with  destiny,  yet 
superior  to  fate  and  fortune  and  internal  tempest  in 
the  strength  of  will  and  dignity  of  heroism.  It  is  not 
possible  to  imagine  those  liete  brigate  of  young  men 
and  maidens  responding  to  the  fierce  appeal  of 
Marston's  prologue : 

Therefore  we  proclaim, 
If  any  spirit  breathes  within  this  round, 
Uncapable  of  weighty  passion — 
As  from  his  birth  being  hugged  in  the  arms 
And  nuzzled  twixt  the  breasts  of  happiness — 
Who  winks,  and  shuts  his  apprehension  up 
From  common  sense  of  what  men  were,  and  are, 
Who  would  not  know  what  men  must  be;  let  such 
Hurry  amain  from  our  black-visaged  shows: 
We  shall  affright  their  eyes.     But  if  a  breast 
Nailed  to  the  earth  with  grief,  if  any  heart 
Pierced  through  with  anguish  pant  within  this  ring, 
If  there  be  any  blood  whose  heat  is  choked 
And  stifled  with  true  sense  of  misery, 
If  aught  of  these  strains  fill  this  consort  up, 
They  arrive  most  welcome. 

Sterner,  and  it  may  be  gloomier  conditions  of  ex- 
ternal life  than  those  which  the  Italians  enjoyed, 
were  needed  as  a  preparation  of  the  public  for  such 
spectacles.  It  was  not  on  these  aspects  of  human 
existence  that  a  race,  accustomed  to  that  genial  cli- 
mate and  refined  by  the  contemplation  of  all-golden 


Il6  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

art,  loved  to  dwell  in  hours  of  recreation.  The  Novella, 
with  its  mixture  of  comedy  and  pathos,  license  and 
satire,  gave  the  tone,  as  we  have  seen,  to  literature. 
The  same  quality  of  the  Italian  temperament  may  be 
illustrated  from  the  painting  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
which  rarely  rises  to  the  height  of  tragedy.  If  we 
except  Michelangelo  and  Tintoretto,  we  find  no  mas- 
ters of  sublime  and  fervid  genius,  able  to  conceive 
with  intensity  and  to  express  with  force  the  thrilling 
moods  of  human  passion.  Raphael  marks  the  height 
of  national  achievement,  and  even  the  more  serious 
work  of  Raphael  found  no  adequate  interpreters 
among  his  pupils. 

The  absence  of  the  tragic  element  in  Italian  art 
and  literature  is  all  the  more  remarkable  because  the 
essence  of  Italian  history,  whether  political  or  domestic, 
was  eminently  dramatic.  When  we  consider  what  the 
nation  suffered  during  the  civil  wars  of  the  thirteenth 
and  fourteenth  centuries,  under  the  tyranny  of  monsters 
like  Ezzelino,  from  plagues  that  swept  away  the  popu- 
lation of  great  cities,  and  beneath  the  scourge  of 
sinister  religious  revivals,  it  may  well  cause  wonder 
that  the  Italian  spirit  should  not  have  assumed  a  stern 
and  tragic  tone  instead  of  that  serenity  and  cheerful- 
ness which  from  the  first  distinguished  it.  The 
Italians  lived  their  tragedies  in  the  dynasties  of  the 
Visconti  and  the  Sforzas*  in  the  contests  of  the  Ba- 
glioni  and  Manfredi,  in  the  persons  of  Pandolfo  Sigis- 
mondo  Malatesta  and  Cesare  Borgia,  in  the  murders, 
poisonings,  rapes  and  treasons  that  form  the  staple  of 
the  annals  of  their  noble  houses.  But  it  was  the 
English  and  not  the  Italian  poets  who  seized  upon  this 


ELIZABETHAN  PLAYS.  117 

tragic  matter  and  placed  it  with  the  light  of  poetry 
upon  the  stage.1  Our  Elizabethan  playwrights  drama- 
tized the  legends  of  Othello  and  Juliet,  the  loves  of 
Bianca  Capello  and  Vittoria  Accoramboni,  the  trage- 
dies of  the  Duchess  of  Amalfi  and  the  Duke  of 
Milan.  There  is  something  even  appalling  in  the 
tenacity  with  which  poets  of  the  stamp  of  Marlowe 
Webster,  Ford,  Massinger  and  Tourneur  clung  to 
the  episodes  of  blood  and  treachery  furnished  by 
Italian  stories.  Their  darkest  delineations  of  villainy, 
their  subtlest  analyses  of  evil  motives,  their  most 
audacious  pictures  o  vice,  are  all  contained  within  the 
charmed  circle  of  Italian  history.  A  play  could 
scarcely  succeed  in  London  unless  the  characters  were 
furnished  with  Italian  names.2  Italy  fascinated  the 
Northern  fancy,  and  the  imagination  of  our  dramatists 
found  itself  at  home  among  her  scenes  of  mingled 
splendor  and  atrocity.  Nowhere,  therefore,  can  a 
truer  study  of  Italian  Court-intrigue  be  found  than  in 
the  plays  of  Webster.  His  portraits,  it  may  be  allowed, 
are  painted  without  relief  or  due  gradation  of  tone. 

i  Exception  must  be  made  in  favor  of  some  ancient  quasi-tragedies, 
which  seem  to  prove  that  before  the  influences  of  Boccaccio  and  the 
Renaissance  had  penetrated  the  nation,  they  were  not  deficient  in  the 
impulse  to  dramatize  history.  The  Eccerinis  of  Albertino  Mussato  (c . 
1300),  half  dialogue  and  half  narration,  upon  the  fate  of  Ezzellino  da 
Romano,  composed  in  the  style  of  Seneca;  the  dialogue  upon  the  de- 
struction of  Cesena  (1377)  falsely  attributed  to  Petrarch;  Giovanni 
Mangini  della  Motta's  poem  on  the  downfall  of  Antonio  della  Scaja 
(1387),  Lodovico  da  Vezzano's  tragedy  of  Jacopo  Piccinino;  though  far 
from  popular  in  their  character,  and  but  partially  dramatic,  were  such  as 
under  happier  auspices  might  have  fostered  the  beginnings  of  the  tragic 
theater.  Later  on  we  hear  of  the  Fall  of  Granada  being  represented 
before  Cardinal  Riario  at  Rome,  as  well  as  the  Ferrandus  Servatus  of 
Carlo  Verradi  (1492). 

3  See  the  first  cast  of  Jonson's  Every  Man  in  his  Humor. 


Il8  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

Flamineo  and  Bosola  seem  made  to  justify  the  pro- 
verb— Inglese  Italianato  2  un  diavolo  incarnato.  Yet 
after  reading  the  secret  history  of  the  Borgias,  or  esti- 
mating the  burden  on  Ferdinand's  conscience  when  he 
quaked  before  the  French  advance  on  Naples,  who  can 
say  that  Webster  has  exaggerated  the  bare  truth  ?  He 
has  but  intensified  it  by  the  incubation  of  his  intellect. 
Varchi's  account  of  Lorenzino  de'  Medici,  affecting 
profligacy  and  effeminacy  in  order  to  deceive  Duke 
Alessandro,  and  forming  to  his  purpose  the  ruffian 
Scoronconcolo  from  the  dregs  of  the  prisons,  furnishes 
a  complete  justification  for  even  Tourneur's  plots.  The 
snare  this  traitor  laid  for  Alessandro,  when  he  offered 
to  bring  his  own  aunt  to  the  duke's  lust,  bears  a  close 
resemblance  to  Vendice's  scheme  in  the  Revenger  s 
Tragedy;  while  the  inconsequence  of  his  action  after 
the  crime,  tallies  with  the  moral  collapse  of  Duke 
Ferdinand  before  his  strangled  sister's  corpse  in  the 
last  act  of  the  Duchess  of  Malfi. 

The  reality  of  these  acted  tragedies  may  have  been 
a  bar  to  their  mimic  presentation  on  the  stage  in  Italy. 
When  the  Borgias  were  poisoning  their  victims  in 
Rome;  when  Lodovico  Sforza  was  compassing  his 
nephew's  death  at  Pavia;  when  the  Venetians  were  de- 
capitating Carmagnuola;  when  Sixtus  was  plotting  the 
murder  of  the  Medici  in  church,  and  Grifonetto  Ba- 
glioni  was  executing  il grajt  tradimento;  could  an  Italian 
audience,  in  the  Court  or  on  the  Piazza,  have  taken  a 
keen  pleasure  in  witnessing  the  scenic  presentment  of 
barbarities  so  close  at  hand?  The  sense  of  contrast 
between  the  world  of  fact  and  the  work  of  art,  which 
forms  an  essential  element  of  cesthetic  pleasure,  would 


ITALIAN  INAPTITUDE   FOR    TRAGEDY.  119 

have  been  wanting.  The  poets  turned  from  these 
crimes  to  comedy  and  romance,  though  the  politicians 
analyzed  their  motives  with  impartial  curiosity.  At  the 
same  time,  we  may  question  whether  the  Despots  would 
have  welcomed  tragic  shows  which  dramatized  their 
deeds  of  violence;  whether  they  would  have  suffered 
the  patriotism  of  Brutus,  the  vengeance  of  Virginius, 
the  plots  of  Catiline,  or  the  downfall  of  Sejanus  to  be 
displayed  with  spirit-stirring  pomp  in  theaters  of  Milan 
and  Ferrara,  when  conspiracies  like  that  of  Olgaiti  were 
frequent.  It  was  the  freedom  of  the  English  public 
and  the  self-restraint  of  the  English  character,  in  com- 
bination with  the  profound  appetite  for  tragic  emotion 
inherent  in  our  Northern  blood,  which  rendered  the 
Shaksperian  drama  possible  and  acceptable. 

In  connection  with  this  inaptitude  of  the  Italians 
for  tragedy,  it  is  worth  noticing  that  their  popular 
poetry  exhibits  but  rare  examples  of  the  ballad.  It 
abounds  in  love  ditties  and  lyrics  of  the  inner  life. 
But  references  to  history  and  the  tragedies  of  noble 
families  are  comparatively  scarce.1  In  Great  Britain, 
on  the  contrary,  while  our  popular  poetry  can  show 
but  few  songs  of  sentiment,  the  Border  and  Robin 
Hood  ballads  record  events  in  national  history  or  epi- 
sodes from  actual  domestic  dramas,  blent  with  the 
memories  of  old  mythology.  These  poems  prove  in 
the  unknown  minstrels  who  produced  them,  a  genuine 
appreciation  of  dramatic  incident;  and  their  manner 
is  marked  by  vigorous  objectivity.  The  minstrel  loses 
himself  in  his  subject  and  aims  at  creating  in  his 

1  See  above,  Part  I,  p.  276,  where  one  ballad  of  the  Border  type  is 
discussed. 


120  RENAISSANCE    IN  ITALY. 

audience  a  vivid  sense  of  the  .action  he  has  under- 
taken to  set  forth.  The  race  which  could  produce 
such  ballads,  already  contained  the  germs  of  Mar- 
lowe's tragedy.  It  would  be  interesting  to  pursue 
this  subject  further,  and  by  examining  the  ballad- 
literature  of  the  several  European  nations,  to  trace  how 
far  the  capacities  which  in  a  rude  state  of  society  were 
directed  to  this  type  of  minstrelsy,  found  at  a  later 
period  their  true  sphere  of  art  in  the  drama.1 

The  deficiency  of  the  tragic  instinct  among  the 
Italians  seems  to  be  further  exhibited  by  their  failure 
to  produce  novels  of  the  higher  type.2  Though  Boc- 
caccio is  the  prince  of  story-tellers,  his  Novclle  are  tales, 
more  interesting  for  their  grace  of  manner  and  beauti- 
fully described  situations,  than  for  analysis  of  character 
or  strength  of  plot.  Recent  Italian  romanzi  are 
histories  rather  than  works  of  free  fiction;  and  these 
novels  were  produced  after  the  style  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott  had  been  acclimatized  in  every  part  of  Europe. 
Meanwhile  no  Balzac  or  George  Sand,  no  Thackeray 
or  George  Eliot,  no  Cervantes  or  Fielding,  has 
appeared  in  Italy.  The  nearest  approach  to  a  great 
Italian  novel  of  life  and  character  is  the  autobiography 

>  It  is  certainly  significant  that  the  Spanish  share  with  the  English 
the  chief  honors  both  of  the  ballad  and  the  drama.  The  Scandinavian 
nations,  rich  in  ballads,  have  been,  through  Danish  poets,  successful  in 
dramatic  composition.  The  Niebelungen  Lied  and  the  Song  of  Roland 
would,  in  the  case  of  Germany  ajid  France,  have  to  be  set  against  the 
English  ballads  of  action.  But  these  Epics  are  different  in  character  from 
the  minstrelsy  which  turned  passing  events  into  poetry  and  bequeathed 
them  in  the  form  of  spirit-stirring  narratives  to  posterity.  Long  after  the 
epical  impulse  had  ceased  and  the  British  epic  of  Arthur  had  passed 
into  the  sphere  of  literature,  the  ballad  minstrels  continued  to  work  with 
dramatic  energy  upon  the  substance  of  contemporary  incidents. 

•  See  above,  p.  54,  for  the  distinction  between  the  Italian  Novella 
and  the  modern  novel. 


BALLADS,    NOVELS,    DRAMA.  121 

of  Cellini.1  As  the  Italians  lived  instead  of  playing 
their  tragedies,  so  they  lived  instead  of  imagining 
their  novels. 

If  a  national  drama  could  have  been  produced  in 
Italy,  it  might  have  appeared  at  Florence  during  the 
reign  of  Lorenzo  de'  Medici.  In  no  other  place  and  at 
no  other  period  was  the  Italian  genius  more  alive  and 
centralized.  But  a  city  is  not  a  nation,  and  the  Com- 
pagnia  di  San  Giovanni  was  not  the  Globe  Theater. 
The  desires  of  the  Florentines,  so  studiously  gratified 
by  their  merchant  prince,  were  bent  on  carnival  shows 
and  dances.  In  this  modern  Athens  the  fine  arts 
failed  to  find  their  meeting-point  and  fulfillment  on  the 
stage,  because  the  people  lacked  the  spirit  and  the 
freedom  necessary  to  the  drama.  Artists  were  satis- 
fied with  decorating  masks  and  cars.  Poets  amused 
their  patrons  with  romantic  stories.  Scholars  were  ab- 
sorbed in  the  fervent  passion  for  antiquity.  Michel- 
angelo carved  and  Lionardo  painted  the  wonders  of 
the  modern  world.  Thus  the  Florentine  genius  found 
channels  that  led  far  afield  from  tragedy.  At  a  later 
period,  when  culture  had  become  more  universally 
Italian,  it  might  have  been  imagined  that  the  bright 
spirit  of  Ariosto,  the  pregnant  wit  of  Machiavelli,  the 
genial  humor  of  Bibbiena  would  have  given  birth  to 
plays  of  fancy  like  Fletcher's  or  to  original  comedies  of 
manners  like  Jonson's  and  Massinger's.  But  such  was 
the  respect  of  these  Italian  playwrights  for  their  classic 
models,  that  the  scenes  of  even  the  best  Florentine 

1  In  the  same  way  Alfieri's  biography  is  a  tragic  and  Goldoni's  a 
comic  novel.  The  Memoirs  of  Casanova,  which  I  incline  to  accept  as 
genuine,  might  rather  be  cited  as  a  string  of  brilliantly  written  Novelle. 


122  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

comedies  are  crowded  with  spendthrifts,  misers,  cour- 
tesans, lovers  and  slaves,  borrowed  from  the  Latin 
authors.  Plautus  and  Terence,  Ariosto  and  Machia- 
velli,  not  nature,  were  their  source  of  inspiration.1 
Mistakes  between  two  brothers,  confusions  of  sex, 
discoveries  that  poor  girls  are  the  lost  daughters  of 
princely  parents,  form  the  staple  of  their  plots.  The 
framework  of  comedy  being  thus  antique,  the  play- 
wright was  reduced  to  narrow  limits  for  that  exhibition 
of  "  truth's  image,  the  ensample  of  manners,  the  mirror 
of  life,"  which  II  Lasca  rightly  designated  as  the  proper 
object  of  the  comic  art. 

The  similarity  of  conditions  between  late  Greek 
and  modern  Italian  life  facilitated  this  custom  of  leaning 
on  antique  models,  and  deceived  the  poets  into  think- 
ing they  might  safely  apply  Graeco-Roman  plots  to  the 
facts  of  fifteenth-century  romance.  With  the  Turk  at 
Otranto,  with  the  Cardinals  of  Este  and  Medici  op- 
posing his  advance  in  Hungary,  with  the  episodes  of 
French  invasion,  with  the  confusions  of  the  Sack  of 
Rome,  there  was  enough  of  social  anarchy  and  public 
peril  to  justify  dramatic  intrigues  based  on  kidnapping 
and  anagnorisis.  The  playwrights,  when  they  adapted 
comedies  of  Plautus  and  Terence,  were  fully  alive  to 
the  advantage  of  these  correspondences.  Claudio  in 
Ariosto's  Suppositi  had  his  son  stolen  in  the  taking  of 

1  Cantu  quotes  the  prologue  of^a  MS.  play  which  goes  so  far  as  to 
apologize  for  the  scene  not  being  laid  at  Athens  (Lett.  It.  p.  471): 

Benche  1*  usanza  sia 
Che  ogni  commedia 
Si  soglia  fare  a  Atene, 
Non  so  donde  si  viene 
Che  questa  non  grecizza, 
Anzi  fiorentinizza. 


ANTIQUE   AND   ITALIAN  LIFE.  123 

Otranto.  Bartolo  in  the  Scolastica  lost  sight  of  his  in- 
tended wife  at  the  moment  of  Lodovico  Sforza's  ex- 
pulsion from  Milan.  Callimaco  in  Machiavelli's  Man- 
dragola  remained  in  Paris  to  avoid  the  troubles  conse- 
quent on  Charles  VIII's.  invasion.  Lidio  and  San- 
tilla  in  Bibbiena's  Calandra,  Blando's  children  in 
Aretino's  Talanta,  were  taken  by  the  Turks.  Fab- 
rizio  in  the  Ingannati  was  lost  in  the  sack  of  Rome. 
Maestro  Cornelio  in  Ambra's  F^t,rto  was  captured  by  the 
German  Lanzi.  In  the  Cofanaria  of  the  same  author 
there  is  a  girl  kidnapped  in  the  Siege  of  Florence. 
Slavery  itself  was  by  no  means  obsolete  in  Italy  upon 
the  close  of  the  middle  ages;  and  the  slave-merchant 
of  Ariosto's  Cassaria,  hardly  distinguished  from  a 
common  brothel-keeper,  was  not  so  anachronistic  as  to 
be  impossible.  The  parasites  of  Latin  comedy  found 
their  counterpart  in  the  clients  of  rich  families  and  the 
poorer  courtiers  of  princes.  The  indispensable  Davus 
was  represented  by  the  body  servants  of  wealthy 
householders.  The  miles  gloriosus  reappeared  in  pro- 
fessional bravi  and  captains  of  mercenaries.  Thus 
the  personages  of  the  Latin  stage  could  easily  be  fur- 
nished with  Italian  masks.  Still  there  remained  an 
awkwardness  in  fitting  these  new  masks  to  the  old  lay- 
figures  ;  and  when  we  read  the  genuine  Italian 
comedies  of  Aretino,  especially  the  Cortigiana  and  the 
Marescalco,  we  feel  how  much  was  lost  to  the  nation 
by  the  close  adherence  of  its  greater  playwrights, 
Ariosto  and  Machiavelli,  to  the  conventions  of  the 
Commedia  eriidita. 

The  example  of  Ariosto  and  Machiavelli  led  even 
the  best  Florentine  playwrights — Cecchi,  Ambra,  and 


124  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

Gelli — into  a  false  path.  The  plays  of  these  younger 
authors  abound  in  reminiscences  of  the  Suppositi  and 
Clizia,  adapted  with  incomparable  skill  and  humor  to 
contemporary  customs,  but  suffering  from  too  close 
adherence  to  models,  which  had  been  in  their  turn 
copied  from  the  antique.  It  was  not  until  the  middle 
of  the  sixteenth  century  that  criticism  hit  the  vein  of 
common  sense.  II  Lasca,  who  deserves  great  credit  for 
his  perspicacity,  carried  on  an  unremitting  warfare 
against  the  comedy  of  anagnorisis.  In  the  prologue  to  his 
Gelosia  he  says1:  "  All  the  comedies  which  have  been 
exhibited  in  Florence  since  the  Siege,  end  in  dis- 
coveries of  lost  relatives.  This  has  become  so  irksome 
to  the  audience  that,  when  they  hear  in  the  argument 
how  at  the  taking  of  this  city  or  the  sack  of  that, 
children  have  been  lost  or  kidnapped,  they  know  only 
too  well  what  is  coming,  and  would  fain  leave  the 
room.  .  .  .  Authors  of  such  comedies  jumble  up  the 
new  and  the  old,  antique  and  modern  together,  making 
a  hodge-podge  and  confusion,  without  rhyme  or 
reason,  head  or  tail.  They  lay  their  scenes  in  modern 
cities  and  depict  the  manners  of  to-day,  but  foist  in 
obsolete  customs  and  habits  of  remote  antiquity. 
Then  they  excuse  themselves  by  saying:  Plautus  did 
thus,  and  this  was  Menander's  way  and  Terence's; 
never  perceiving  that  in  Florence,  Pisa  and  Lucca 
people  do  not  live  as  they  used  to  do  in  Rome  and 
Athens.  For  heaven's  sake  let  these  fellows  take  to 
translation,  if  they  have  no  vein  of  invention,  but  leave 
off  cobbling  and  spoiling  the  property  of  others  and 

'  Commedie  di  Antonfrancesco  Grazzini  (Firenze,  Lemonnier,  1859), 
p.  5. 


IL   LASCA'S   CRITIQUE.  125 

their  own."  The  prologue  to  the  Spiritata  contains  a 
similar  polemic  against  "quei  ritrovamenti  nei  tempi 
nostri  impossibili  e  sciocchi." 1  In  the  prologue  to  the 
Strega,  after  once  more  condemning  "  quelle  reco- 
gnizioni  deboli  e  sgarbate,"  he  proceeds  to  attack  the 
authority  of  ancient  critics  on  whom  the  pedantic  school 
relied2:  "Aristotle  and  Horace  knew  their  own  times. 
But  ours  are  wholly  different.  We  have  other  manners, 
another  religion,  another  way  of  life ;  and  therefore  our 
comedies  ought  to  be  composed  after  a  different 
fashion.  People  do  not  live  at  Florence  as  they  did 
in  Rome  and  Athens.  There  are  no  slaves  here ;  it  is 
not  customary  to  adopt  children ;  our  pimps  do  not  put- 
up  girls  for  sale  at  auction ;  nor  do  the  soldiers  of  the 
present  century  carry  long-clothes  babies  off  in  the 
sack  of  cities,  to  educate  them  as  their  own  daughters 
and  give  them  dowries ;  nowadays  they  make  as  much 
booty  as  they  can,  and  should  girls  or  married  women 
fall  into  their  hands,  they  either  look  for  a  large  ransom 
or  rob  them  of  their  maidenhead  and  honor." 

This  polemic  of  II  Lasca,  and,  indeed,  all  that  he 
says  about  the  art  and  aim  of  comedy,  is  very  sensible. 
But  at  his  date  there  was  no  hope  for  a  great  comedy 
of  manners.  What  between  the  tyranny  of  the  Medici 
and  the  pressure  of  the  Inquisition,  Spanish  suspicion 
and  Papal  anxiety  for  a  reform  of  manners,  the  liberty 
essential  to  a  new  development  of  the  dramatic  art 
had  been  extinguished.  And  even  if  external  condi- 
tions had  been  favorable,  the  spirit  of  the  race  was 
spent.  All  intellectual  energy  was  now  losing  itself  in 
the  quagmire  of  academical  discussions  and  literary 

1  Op.  cit.  p.  109.  2  Ibid.  p.  1/3. 


126  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

disputations  upon  verbal  niceties.  Attention  was 
turned  backward  to  the  study  of  Petrarch  and  Boc- 
caccio. Authors  aiming  above  all  things  at  correctness, 
slavishly  observant  of  rules  and  absurdly  fearful  of 
each  other's  ferules,  had  not  the  stuff  in  them  to  create. 
What  has  been  said  of  comedy,  is  still  more  true  of 
tragedy.  The  tragic  dramas  of  this  period  are  stiff 
and  lifeless,  designed  to  illustrate  critical  principles 
rather  than  to  stir  and  purify  the  passions.  They  have 
no  relation  to  the  spirit  of  the  people  or  the  times; 
and  the  blood  spilt  at  their  conclusion  fails  to  distin- 
guish them  from  moral  lucubrations  in  the  blankest 
verse.1 

The  first  regular  Italian  tragedy  was  the  Sofonisba 
of  Gian  Giorgio  Trissino,  finished  in  i5i5,  and  six 
times  printed  before  the  date  of  its  first  representation 
at  Vicenza  in  i562.2  Trissino  was  a  man  of  immense 
erudition  and  laborious  intellect,  who  devoted  himself 
to  questions  of  grammatical  and  literary  accuracy, 
studying  the  critics  of  antiquity  with  indefatigable 
diligence  and  seeking  to  establish  canons  for  the  regu- 
lation of  correct  Italian  composition.  He  was  by  no 
means  deficient  in  originality  of  aim,  and  professed 
himself  the  pioneer  of  novelties  in  poetry.3  Thus,  be- 
sides innovating  in  the  minor  matter  of  orthography, 
he  set  himself  to  supply  the  deficiencies  of  Italian 
literature  by  producing  an  epic  in  the  heroic  style  and 

1  I  have  put  into  an  Appendix  some  further  notes  upon  the  opinions 
recorded  by  the  playwrights  concerning  the  progress  of  the  dramatic  art. 

*  My  references  to  Italian  tragedies  will  be  made  to  the  Teatro  Ital- 
iano  Antico,  10  vols.,  Milano,  1809. 

a  This  is  shown  by  his  device  of  a  Golden  Fleece,  referring  to  the 
voyage  of  the  Argonauts.  To  sail  the  ocean  of  antiquity  as  an  explorer, 
and  to  bring  back  the  spoils  of  their  artistic  method  was  his  ambition. 


THE    SOFONISBA. 


127 


a  tragedy  that  should  compete  with  those  of  Athens. 
He  had  made  a  profound  study  of  the  Poetics  and 
believed  that  Aristotle's  analyses  of  the  epic  and  the 
drama  might  be  used  as  recipes  for  manufacturing 
similar  masterpieces  in  a  modern  tongue.1  The  Italia 
Liberata  and  the  Sofonisba,  meritorious  but  lifeless 
exercises  which  lacked  nothing  but  the  genius  for 
poetry,  were  the  results  of  these  ambitious  theories. 
Aristotle  presided  over  both,  while  Homer  served  as 
the  professed  model  for  Trissino's  heroic  poem,  and 
Sophocles  was  copied  in  his  play.  Of  the  Italia 
Liberata  this  is  not  the  place  to  speak.  The  Sofonisba 
is  founded  on  a  famous  episode  in  the  Punic  Wars, 
when  the  wife  of  Syphax  was  married  by  Massinissa 
contrary  to  the  express  will  of  Lselius  and  Scipio. 
She  takes  poison  at  her  new  husband's  orders,  and  her 
death  forms  the  catastrophe.  There  is  some  attempt 
to  mark  character  in  Lelio,  Scipione,  and  Massinissa; 
but  these  persons  do  not  act  and  react  on  one  another, 
nor  is  there  real  dramatic  movement  in  the  play. 
Sofonisba  passes  through  it  automatically,  giving  her 
hand  to  Massinissa  without  remorse  for  Syphax, 
drinking  the  poison  like  an  obedient  girl,  and  dying 
with  decorous  but  ineffective  pathos.  Massinissa 
plays  the  part  of  an  idiot  by  sending  her  the  poison 

1  Compare  what  Giraldi  says  in  the  dedication  of  his  Orbecche  to 
Duke  Ercole  II.:  "  Ancora  che  Aristotele  ci  dia  il  modo  di  comporle." 
In  the  same  passage  he  dwells  on  the  difficulties  of  producing  tragedies 
in  the  absence  of  dramatic  instinct,  with  an  ingenuousness  that  moves 
our  pity:  "  Quando  altri  si  da  a  scrivere  in  quella  maniera  de'  Poemi,  che 
sono  stati  per  tanti  secoli  tralasciati,  che  appena  di  loro  vi  resta  una  lieve 
ombra."  It  never  occurred  to  him  that  great  poetry  comes  neither  by 
observation  nor  by  imitation  of  predecessors.  The  same  dedication  con- 
tains the  monstrous  critical  assertion  that  the  Latin  poets,  /.  <?.  Seneca, 
improved  upon  Greek  tragedy — a s sat  pi&  grave  la  fecero. 


128  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

which  he  thinks,  apparently,  she  will  not  take.  His 
surprise  and  grief,  no  less  than  his  previous  impulse  of 
passionate  love,  are  stationary.  In  a  word,  Trissino 
selected  a  well-known  story  from  Roman  history,  and 
forgot  that,  in  order  to  dramatize  it,  he  must  present 
the  circumstances,  not  as  a  narrated  fable,  but  as  a 
sequence  of  actions  determined  by  powerful  and  con- 
vincing motives.  The  two  essentials  of  dramatic  art, 
action  evolved  before  the  eyes  of  the  spectators,  and 
what  Goethe  called  the  motiviren  of  each  incident, 
are  conspicuous  by  their  absence.  The  would-be 
tragic  poet  was  too  mindful  of  rules — his  unities,  his 
diction,  his  connection  of  scenes  that  should  occupy 
the  stage  without  interruption,  his  employment  of  the 
Chorus  in  harmony  with  antique  precedent — to  con- 
ceive intensely  or  to  express  vividly.  In  form  the 
Sofonisba  is  a  fair  imitation  of  Attic  tragedy,  and  the 
good  taste  of  its  author  secures  a  certain  pale  and 
frigid  reflection  of  classical  simplicity.  Blank  verse  is 
judiciously  mingled  with  lyric  meters,  which  are  only 
introduced  at  moments  of  high-wrought  feeling.  The 
Chorus  plays  an  unobtrusive  part  in  the  dialogue,  and 
utters  appropriate  odes  in  the  right  places.  Conse- 
quently, the  Sofonisba  was  hailed  as  a  triumph  of  skill 
by  the  learned  audience  to  whom  alone  the  author 
appealed.  Its  merits  of  ingenuity  and  scholarship  were 
such  as  they  could  appreciate.  Its  lack  of  vitality  and 
imaginative  vigor  did  not  strike  men  who  were  accus- 
tomed to  judge  of  poetry  by  rule  and  precedent. 

Numerous  scholars  entered  the  lists  in  competition 
with  Trissino.  Among  these  the  first  place  must  be 
given  to  Giovanni  Rucellai,  whose  Rosmunda  was 


THE    ROSMUNDA.  129 

composed  almost  contemporaneously  with  the  Sofo- 
nisba  and  was  acted  before  Leo  X.  in  the  Rucellai 
Gardens  upon  the  occasion  of  a  Papal  visit  to  Flor- 
ence. The  chief  merit  of  Rosmunda  is  brevity.  But 
it  has  the  fatal  fault  of  being  a  story  told  in  scenes 
and  dialogues,  not  an  action  moving  and  expanding 
through  a  series  of  connected  incidents.  Rosmunda's 
father,  Comundo,  has  been  slain  in  battle  with  the 
Lombards  under  Albuino.  Like  Antigone,  the  princess 
goes  by  night  to  bury  his  corpse;  and  when  the  tyrant 
threatens  her,  she  replies  in  language  borrowed  from 
Sophocles.  Albuino  decapitates  Comundo  and  makes 
a  wine-cup  of  his  skull,  from  which,  after  his  marriage 
to  Rosmunda,  he  forces  her  to  drink.  This  deter- 
mines the  catastrophe.  Almachilde  appears  upon  the 
scene  and  slaughters  Albuino  in  his  tent.  We  are  left 
to  conjecture  the  murderer's  future  marriage  with  the 
heroine.  That  the  old  tale  of  the  Donna  Lombarda  is 
eminently  fitted  for  tragic  handling,  admits  of  no 
doubt.  But  it  is  equally  certain  that  Rucellai  failed  to 
dramatize  it.  Almachilde  is  not  introduced  until  the 
fourth  act,  and  he  assassinates  Albuino  without  any 
previous  communication  with  Rosmunda.  The  horrible 
banquet  scene  and  the  incident  of  the  murder  are 
described  by  messengers,  while  the  chief  actors  rarely 
come  to  speech  together  face  to  face.  The  business 
of  the  play  is  narrated  in  dialogues  with  servants. 
This  abuse  of  the  Messenger  and  of  subordinate 
characters,  introduced  for  the  sole  purpose  of  describ- 
ing and  relating  what  ought  to  be  enacted,  is  not  pecu- 
liar to  the  Rosmunda.  It  weakens  all  the  tragedies  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  reducing  their  scenes  to  vacant 


130  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

discussions,  where  one  person  tells  another  what  the 
author  has  conceived  but  what  he  cannot  bring  before 
his  audience.  Afraid  of  straining  his  imaginative 
faculties  by  the  display  of  characters  in  action,  the  poet 
studiously  keeps  the  chief  personages  apart,  supplying 
the  hero  and  the  heroine  with  a  shadow  or  an  echo, 
whose  sympathetic  utterances  serve  to  elicit  the  plot 
without  making  any  demand  upon  the  dramatist's  power 
of  presentation.  Unfortunately  for  the  tragic  poets, 
the  precedent  of  Seneca  seemed  to  justify  this  false 
method  of  dramatic  composition.  And  Seneca's  trag- 
edies, we  know,  were  written,  not  for  action,  but  for 
recitation. 

These  defects  culminate  in  Speron  Sperone's 
Canace.  The  tale  is  horrible.  Eolo,  god  of  the 
winds,  has  two  children,  Canace  and  Macareo,  born 
at  one  birth  by  his  wife  Deiopea.  Under  the  malign 
influence  of  Venus  this  unlucky  couple  love;  and  the 
fruit  of  their  union  is  a  baby,  killed  as  soon  as  born. 
The  brother  and  the  sister  commit  suicide  separately, 
after  their  father's  anger  has  thrown  the  light  of 
publicity  upon  their  passion.  In  order  to  justify  the 
exhibition  of  incest  in  this  repulsive  form,  there  should 
at  least  have  been  such  scenes  of  self-abandonment  to 
impulse  as  Ford  has  found  for  Giovanni  and  Anna- 
bella;  or  the  poet  might  have  suggested  the  .operation 
of  agencies  beyond  human  control  by  treading  in  the 
footsteps  of  Euripides;  or,  again,  he  might  have  risen 
from  the  sordid  facts  of  sin  into  the  region  of  ideal 
passion  by  the  presentation  of  commanding  person- 
ality in  his  principal  actors.  Nothing  of  this  kind 
redeems  the  dreary  disgust  of  his  plot.  The  first  act 


THE    CANACE   AND    ORBECCHE.  131 

consists  of  a  dialogue  between  Eolo  and  his  Grand 
Vizier;  the  second,  of  a  dialogue  between  Canace  and 
her  nurse;  the  third,  of  dialogues  between  Deiopea 
and  her  servants;  the  fourth,  of  a  Messenger's  narrative; 
the  fifth,  of  Macareo's  dialogues  with  his  valet  and  his 
father's  henchman.  This  analysis  of  the  situations 
shows  how  little  of  dramatic  genius  Sperone  brought 
to  bear  upon  the  hideous  theme  he  had  selected.  The 
Canace  is  a  succession  of  conversations  referring  to 
events  which  happen  off  the  stage,  and  which  involve 
no  play  of  character  in  the  chief  personages.  It  is 
written  throughout  in  lyrical  measures  with  an  affected 
diction,  where  rhetorical  conceits  produce  the  same 
effect  as  artificial  flowers  and  ribbons  stuck  upon  a 
skeleton. 

Giraldi,  the  author  of  the  Hecatommithi,  fares  little 
better  in  his  Orbecche?-  It  is  a  play  founded  on  one 
of  the  poet's  own  Novelle?  Orbecche,  the  innocent 
child  of  Sulmone  and  Selina,  has  led  her  father  to 
detect  his  wife's  adultery  with  his  own  eldest  son. 
Selina,  killed  together  with  her  paramour,  exercises  a 
baleful  influence  from  the  world  of  ghosts  over  this 
daughter  who  unwittingly  betrayed  her  sin.  Orbecche 
privately  marries  the  low-born  Oronte  and  has  two 
sons  by  her  husband.  Sulmone,  when  he  discovers  this 
mesalliance,  assassinates  Oronte  and  his  children  in  a 
secret  place,  and  makes  a  present  of  his  head  and 

1  This  tragedy  was  acted  at  Ferrara  in  Giraldi's  house  before  Ercole 
II.,  Duke  of  Ferrara,  and  a  brilliant  company  of  noble  persons,  in  1541. 
The  music  was  composed  by  M.  Alfonso  dalla  Viuola,  the  scenery  by 
M.  Girolamo  Carpi. 

2  Giraldi,  a  prolific  writer  of  plays,  dramatized  three  other  of  his 
novels  in  the  Arrenopia,  the  Altile  and  the  Antivalomeni.     He  also 
composed  a  Didone  and  a  Cleopatra. 


132  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

hands  to  his  miserable  daughter.  Upon  this,  Orbecche 
stabs  her  father  and  then  ends  her  own  life.  To  hor- 
rors of  extravagant  passion  and  bloodshed  we  are 
accustomed  in  the  works  of  our  inferior  playwrights. 
Nor  would  it  perhaps  be  just  to  quarrel  with  Giraldi 
for  having  chosen  a  theme  so  morbid,  if  any  excuse 
could  have  been  pleaded  on  the  score  of  stirring 
scenes  or  vivid  incidents.  Unluckily,  the  life  of  dra- 
matic action  and  passion  is  wanting  to  his  ponderous 
tragedy.  Instead  of  it,  we  are  treated  to  disquisitions 
in  the  style  of  Seneca,  and  to  descriptions  that  would 
be  harrowing  but  for  their  invincible  frigidity.  No 
amount  of  crime  and  bloodshed  will  atone  for  the  sta- 
tionary mechanism  of  this  lucubration. 

Lacking  dramatic  instinct,  these  Italian  scholars 
might  have  redeemed  their  essential  feebleness  by 
acute  analysis  of  character.  Their  tragedies  might 
at  least  have  contained  versified  studies  of  motives, 
metrical  essays  on  the  leading  passions.  But  we  look 
in  vain  for  such  compensations.  Stock  tyrants,  con- 
ventional lovers,  rhetorical  pedants,  form  their  dramatis 
persona.  The  inherent  vices  of  the  Novella,  expanded 
to  excessive  length  and  invested  with  the  forms  of 
antique  art,  neutralize  the  labors  of  the  lamp  and  file 
that  have  been  spent  upon  them.1  If  it  were  requisite 

1  It  may  here  be  remarked  that  though  the  scholarly  playwrights  of 
the  Renaissance  paid  great  attention  to  Aristotle's  Poetics,  and  made  a 
conscientious  study  of  some  Gre"ek  plays,  especially  the  Antigone,  the 
(Edipus  Tyrannus,  the  Phcenissa,  and  the  iphigenia  in  Tauris,  they 
held  the  uncritical  opinion,  openly  expressed  by  Giraldi,  that  Seneca  had 
improved  the  form  of  the  Greek  drama.  Their  worst  faults  of  construc- 
tion, interminable  monologues,  dialogues  between  heroines  and  confi- 
dantes, dry  choric  dissertations,  and  rhetorical  declamations  are  due  to 
the  preference  for  Seneca.  The  more  we  study  Italian  literature  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  the  more  we  are  compelled  to  acknowledge  that  hu- 


THE   MARIANNA. 


'33 


to  select  one  play  in  which  a  glimmer  of  dramatic 
light  is  visible,  we  could  point  to  the  Marianna  of 
Lodovico  Dolce.  Here  the  passion  of  love  in  a  tyrant, 
dotingly  affectionate  but  egotistic,  roused  to  suspicion 
by  the  slightest  hint,  and  jealous  beyond  Othello's 
lunacy,  has  been  depicted  with  considerable  skill. 
Herod  is  a  fantastical  Creon,  who  murders  the  fancied 
paramour  of  Marianna,  and  subsequently  assassinates 
Marianna  herself,  his  two  sons  by  her,  and  her  mother, 
in  successive  paroxysms  of  insane  vindictiveness, 
waking  up  too  late  from  his  dream  of  self- injury  into 
ignoble  remorse.  Though  his  conviction  that  Mari- 
anna meant  to  poison  him,  and  his  persuasion  of  her 
adultery  with  Soemo  are  so  ill  prepared  by  reasonable 
motives  as  to  be  ridiculous,  the  operation  of  these  be- 
liefs upon  his  wild-beast  nature  leads  to  more  real 
movement  than  is  common  in  Italian  tragedies.  The 
inevitable  Chorus  is  employed  for  the  utterance  of 
sententious  commonplaces ;  and  the  part  of  the  Mes- 
senger is  abused  for  the  detailed  and  disgusting  de- 
scription of  executions  that  inspire  no  horror. 

The  tragedies  hitherto  discussed,  though  conform- 
ing to  the  type  of  the  classical  drama,  were  composed 
on  original  subjects.  Yet  the  best  plays  of  this  pedantic 
school  are  those  which  closely  follow  some  Attic  model. 
Rucellai's  Oreste,  produced  in  imitation  of  the  Iphi- 

manism  and  all  its  consequences  were  a  revival  of  Latin  culture,  only 
slightly  tinctured  with  the  simpler  and  purer  influences  of  the  Greeks. 
Latin  poetry  had  the  fatal  attraction  of  facility.  It  was,  moreover,  itself 
composite  and  derivatory,  like  the  literature  of  the  new  age.  We  may 
profitably  illustrate  the  attitude  of  the  Italian  critics  by  Sidney's  eulogy 
oiGorboduc:  "full  of  stately  speeches  and  well-sounding  phrases,  climbing 
to  the  height  of  Seneca  his  style,  and  as  full  of  notable  morality  which  it 
doth  most  delightfully  teach  and  so  obtain  the  very  end  of  Poesy." 


134  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

gcnia  in  Tauris,  far  surpasses  the  Rosmunda,  not  only 
as  a  poem  of  action,  but  also  for  the  richness  and  the 
beauty  of  its  style.  That  Rucellai  should  spoil  the 
plot  of  Euripides  by  his  alterations,  protracting  the 
famous  recognition-scene  till  we  are  forced  to  suppose 
that  Orestes  and  Iphigenia  kept  up  a  game  of  mutual 
misunderstanding  out  of  consideration  for  the  poet, 
and  spinning  out  the  contest  between  Orestes  and 
Pylades  to  absurdity,  was  to  be  expected.  A  scholar 
in  his  study  can  scarcely  hope  to  improve  upon  the 
work  of  a  poet  whose  very  blemishes  were  the  defects 
of  a  dramatic  quality.  He  fancies  that  expansion  of 
striking  situations  will  fortify  them,  and  that  the  addi- 
tion of  ingenious  rhetoric  will  render  a  simple  action 
more  effective.  The  reverse  of  this  is  true ;  and  the 
best  line  open  to  such  a  poet  is  to  produce  a  faithful 
version  of  his  original.  This  was  done  by  Luigi 
Alamanni,  whose  translation  of  the  Antigone,  though 
open  to  objections  on  the  score  of  scholarship,  is  a 
brilliant  and  beautiful  piece  of  Italian  versification. 
Lodovico  Dolce  in  his  Giocasta  attempted  to  remodel 
the  Phcenissa  with  very  indifferent  success;  while 
Giovanni  Andrea  dell'  Anguillara  defaced  the  (Eilipus 
Tyrannus  in  his  Edippo,  by  adding  a  final  act  and  inter- 
weaving episodical  matter  borrowed  from  Seneca.  A 
more  repulsive  tragi-comedy  than  this  pasticcio  of 
Sophocles  and  Seneca,  can  scarcely  be  imagined.  Yet 
Quadrio  and  Tiraboschi  mention  it  with  cautious  com- 
pliment, and  it  received  the  honor  of  public  recitation 
at  Vicenza  in  i565,  when  Palladio  erected  a  theater 
for  the  purpose  in  the  noble  Palazzo  della  Ragione. 
We  cannot  contemplate  these  rifacimenti  of  standard- 


ADAPTATIONS    OF   GREEK  PLAYS. 


T35 


making  masterpieces  without  mixed  feelings  of  scorn 
and  pity.  Sprouting  fungus-like  upon  the  venerable 
limbs  of  august  poetry,  they  lived  their  season  of 
mildewy  fame,  and  may  now  be  reckoned  among  the 
things  which  the  world  would  only  too  willingly  let 
die.  The  ineptitude  of  such  performance  reached  a 
climax  in  Lodovico  Martelli's  Tullia,  where  the  Roman 
legend  of  Lucius  Tarquinius  is  violently  altered  to  suit 
the  plot  of  Sophocles'  Electra.  Romulus  appears  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  play  as  a  deus  ex  machina,  and  the 
insufferable  tedium  of  the  speeches  may  be  imagined 
from  the  fact  that  one  of  them  runs  to  the  length  of 
211  lines. 

These  tragedies  were  the  literary  manufacture  of 
scholars,  writing  in  no  relation  of  reciprocity  with  the 
world  of  action  or  the  audience  of  busy  cities.  Ap- 
plying rules  of  Aristotle  and  Horace,  travestying 
Sophocles  and  Euripides,  copying  the  worst  faults 
of  Seneca,  patching,  boggling,  rehandling,  misconceiv- 
ing, devising  petty  traps  instead  of  plots,  mistaking 
bloodshed  and  brutality  for  terror,  attending  to  niceties 
of  diction,  composing  commonplace  sentences  for 
superfluous  Choruses,  intent  on  everything  but  the 
main  points  of  passion,  character,  and  action,  they  pro- 
duced the  dreariest  caput  mortuum  of  unintelligent 
industry  which  it  is  the  melancholy  duty  of  historians  to 
chronicle.  Their  personages  are  shadows  evoked  in 
the  camera  obscura  of  a  pedant's  brain  from  figures 
that  have  crossed  the  orbit  of  his  solitary  studies.  No 
breath  or  juice  of  life  animates  these  formal  marion- 
ettes. Their  movements  of  passion  are  the  spasms  of 
machinery.  No  charm  of  poetry,  no  bursts  of  lyrical 


136  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

music,  no  resolutions  of  tragic  solemnity  into  irony  or 
sarcasm,  afford  relief  from  clumsy  horrors  and  stale 
disquisitions,  parceled  out  by  weight  and  measure  in 
the  leaden  acts.  An  intolerable  wordiness  oppresses 
the  reader,  who  wades  through  speeches  reckoned  by 
the  hundred  lines,  wondering  how  any  audience  could 
endure  the  torment  of  their  recitation.  Each  play  is 
a  flat  and  arid  wilderness,  piled  with  barrows  of  extinct 
sentences  in  Seneca's  manner  and  with  pyramids  of 
reflection  heaped  up  from  the  commonplace  books  of 
a  pedagogue. 

The  failure  of  Italian  tragedy  was  inseparable 
from  its  artifical  origin.  It  was  the  conscious  pro- 
duct of  cultivated  persons,  who  aimed  at  nothing 
nobler  than  the  imitation  of  the  ancients  and  the  ob- 
servance of  inapplicable  rules.  The  curse  of  intellect- 
ual barrenness  weighed  upon  the  starvelings  of  this 
system  from  the  moment  of  their  birth,  and  nothing 
better  came  of  them  than  our  own  Gorboduc.  That 
tragedy,  built  upon  the  false  Italian  method,  is  indeed 
a  sign  of  what  we  English  might  have  suffered,  if 
Sidney  and  the  court  had  gained  their  way  with  the 
Elizabethan  Drama. 

The  humanistic  influences  of  the  fifteenth  century 
were  scarcely  less  unpropitious  to  national  comedy  at  its 
outset  than  they  had  been  to  tragedy.  Although  the 
Sacre  Rappresentazioni  contained  the  germ  of  vernac- 
ular farce,  though  interludes  in  dialect  amused  the 
folk  of  more  than  one  Italian  province,  among  which 
special  reference  may  be  made  to  the  Neapolitan 
Parse,  yet  the  playwrights  of  the  Renaissance  pre- 
ferred Plautus  and  Terence  to  the  indigenous  growth 


INFLUENCE    OF  HUMANISM. 


137 


of  their  own  age  and  country.1  We  may  note  this 
fact  with  regret,  since  it  helped  to  deprive  the  Italians 
of  a  national  theater.  Still  we  must  not  forget  that 
it  was  inevitable.  Humanism  embraced  the  several 
districts  of  Italy  in  a  common  culture,  effacing  the  dis- 
tinctions of  dialect,  and  bringing  the  separate  elements 
of  the  nation  to  a  consciousness  of  intellectual  unity. 
Divided  as  Venetians,  as  Florentines,  as  Neapolitans, 
as  Lombards,  and  as  Romans,  the  members  of  the 
Italian  community  recognized  their  identity  in  the 
spiritual  city  they  had  reconquered  from  the  past. 
What  the  English  translation  of  the  Bible  effected  for 
us,  the  recovery  of  Latin  and  the  humanistic  education 
of  the  middle  classes  achieved  for  the  Italians.  For  a 
Florentine  scholar  to  have  developed  the  comic  ele- 
ments existing  in  the  Feste>  for  a  Neapolitan  to  have 
refined  the  matter  of  the  Parse,  would  have  seemed  the 
same  in  either  case  as  self-restriction  to  the  limits  of  a 
single  province.  But  the  whole  nation  possessed  the 
Latin  poets  as  a  common  heritage  ;  and  on  the  ground 
of  Plautus,  Florentines  and  Neapolitans  could  under- 
stand each  other.  It  was  therefore  natural  that  the 
cultivated  orders,  brought  into  communion  by  the 
ancients,  should  look  to  these  for  models  of  an  art 
they  were  intent  on  making  national.  Together  with 
this  imperious  instinct,  which  impelled  the  Italians  to 
create  their  literature  in  sympathy  with  the  command- 
ing spirit  of  the  age,  we  must  reckon  the  fashionable 
indifference  toward  vernacular  and  obscure  forms  of 

1  D'  Ancona  (Origini  del  Teatro,  vol.  ii.  sec.  xxxix.)  may  be  con- 
sulted upon  the  attempts  to  secularize  the  Sucre  Rappresentazioni 
which  preceded  the  revival  of  classical  comedy. 


138  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

poetry.  The  princes  and  their  courtiers  strove  alike 
to  remodel  modern  customs  in  accordance  with  the 
classics.  Illiterate  mechanics  might  amuse  themselves 
with  farces.1  Men  who  had  once  tasted  the  refined 
and  pungent  salt  of  Attic  wit,  could  stomach  nothing 
simpler  than  scenes  from  antique  comedy. 

We  therefore  find  that,  at  the  close  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  it  was  common  to  recite  the  plays  of  Plautus 
and  Terence  in  their  original  language.  Paolo  Com- 
parini  at  Florence  in  1488  wrote  a  prologue  to  the 
Menachmiy  which  his  pupils  represented,  much  to  the 
disgust  of  the  elder  religious  Companies,  who  felt  that 
the  ruin  of  their  Feste  was  involved  in  this  revival  of 
antiquity.2  Pomponius  Laetus  at  Rome,  about  the 
same  time,  encouraged  the  members  of  his  Academy 
to  rehearse  Terence  and  Plautus  in  the  palaces  of 
nobles  and  prelates.3  The  company  of  youthful  ac- 
tors formed  by  him  were  employed  by  the  Cardinal 
Raffaello  Riario  in  the  magnificent  spectacles  he  pro- 
vided for  the  amusement  of  the  Papal  Court.  During 
the  pontificate  of  Sixtus  IV.  and  Innocent  VIII.,  the 
mausoleum  of  Hadrian,  not  then  transformed  into  a 
fortress,  or  else  the  squares  of  Rome  were  temporarily 

1  Leo  X.,  with  a  Medici's  true  sympathy  for  plebeian  literature  added 
to  his  own  coarse  sense  of  fun,  patronized  the  farces  of  the  Sienese  Com- 
pany called  Rozzi.  Had  his  influence  lasted,  had  there  been  any  one  to 
continue  the  traditions  of  his  Court  at  Rome,  it  is  not  impossible  that 
a  more  natural  comedy,  as  distinguished  from  the  Com  media  erudita, 
might  have  been  produced  by  this  fashionable  patronage  of  popular  dra- 
matic art. 

*  See  D*  Ancona,  Or.  del  Teatro,  vol.  ii.  p.  201. 

3  Sabellico,  quoted  by  Tiraboschi,  says  of  him:  "  primorum  antistitum 
atriis  suo  theatro  usus,  in  quibus  Plauti,  Terentii,  recentiorum  etiam 
quaedam  agerentur  fabulae,  quas  ipse  honestos  adolescentes  et  docuit 
ct  agentibus  praefuit." 


LATIN   COMEDIES. 


'39 


arranged  as  theaters  for  these  exhibitions.1  It  was  on 
this  stage  that  Tommaso  Inghirami,  by  his  brilliant 
acting  in  the  Hippolytus  of  Seneca,  gained  the  sur- 
name of  Phaedra  which  clung  to  him  through  life.  In 
the  pontificate  of  Alexander  we  hear  of  similar  shows, 
as  when,  upon  the  occasion  of  Lucrezia  Borgia's 
espousal  to  the  Duke  of  Ferrara  in  i5o2,  the  Men- 
cechmi  was  represented  at  the  Vatican.2 

The  Court  which  accomplished  most  for  the  resus- 
citation of  Latin  Comedy  was  that  of  the  Estensi  at 
Ferrara.  Ercole  I.  had  spent  a  delicate  youth  in  hu- 
manistic studies,  collecting  manuscripts  and  encourag- 
ing his  courtiers  to  make  Italian  translations  of  ancient 
authors.  He  took  special  interest  in  theatrical  com- 
positions, and  spared  no  pains  in  putting  Latin  come- 
dies with  all  the  pomp  of  modern  art  upon  the  stage. 
Thus  the  Ferrarese  diaries  mention  a  representation  of 
the  Men&chmi  in  1486,  which  cost  above  1000  ducats. 
In  1487  the  courtyard  of  the  castle  was  fitted  up  as  a 
theater  for  the  exhibition  of  Nicolo  da  Correggio's 
Pastoral  of  Cefalo?  Again,  upon  the  occasion  of 

1  See  the  letter  of  Sulpizio  da  Veroli  to  Raffaello  Riario,  quoted  by 
Tiraboschi;  "eamdemque,  postquam  in  Hadriani  mole  Divo  Innocentio 
spectante  est  acta,  rursus  inter  tuos  penates,  tamquam  in  media  Circi 
cavea,  toto  consessu  umbraculis  tecto,  admisso  populo,  et  pluribus  tui 
ordinis  spectatoribus  honorifice  excepisti.     Tu  etiam  primus  picturatas 
scenaa  faciem,  quum  Pomponiam  comoediam  agerent,  nostro  sasculo 
ostendisti." 

2  See  Lucrezia  Borgia,  by  Gregorovius  (Stuttgart,  1874),  vol.  i.  p.  201. 

3  Nicolo  was  a  descendant  of  the  princely  house  of  Correggio.     He 
married  Cassandra,  daughter  of  Bartolommeo  Colleoni.    His  Cefalo  was 
a  mixed  composition  resembling  the  Sacre  Rappresentazioni  in  struct- 
ure.    In  the  Prologue  he  says: 

Requiret  autem  nullus  hie  Comoedias 
Leges  ut  observentur,  aut  Tragoedias; 
Agenda  nempe  est  historia,  non  fabula. 
See  D'  Ancona,  op.  cit.  vol  2,  pp.  143-146,  155. 


140  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

Annibale  de'  Bentivogli's  betrothal  to  a  princess  of 
the  Este  family,  the  Amphitryon  was  performed;  and 
in  1491,  when  Anna  Sforza  gave  her  hand  to  Alfonso 
d'  Este,  the  same  comedy  was  repeated.  In  1493 
Lodovico  Sforza,  on  a  visit  to  Ferrara,  witnessed  a 
representation  of  the  MttUKhmil  which  so  delighted 
him  that  he  begged  Ercole  to  send  his  company  to 
Milan.  The  Duke  went  thither  in  person,  attended 
by  his  son  Alfonso  and  by  gentle  actors  of  his  Court, 
among  whom  Lodovico  Ariosto  played  a  part.  Later 
on,  in  1499,  we  again  hear  of  Latin  comedies  at 
Ferrara.  Bembo  in  a  letter  of  that  year  mentions 
the  Trinummus,  Pcenulus  and  Eunuchus.1 

It  is  probable  that  Latin  comedies  were  recited  at 
Ferrara,  as  at  Rome,  in  the  original.  At  the  same 
time  we  know  that  both  Plautus  and  Terence  were 
being  translated  into  Italian  for  the  amusement  of  an 
audience  as  yet  but  partially  acquainted  with  ancient 
languages.  Tiraboschi  mentions  the  Anfitrione  of 
Pandolfo  Collenuccio,  the  Cassina  and  Mostellaria  ver- 
sified in  terza  rima  by  Girolamo  Berardo,  and  the 
Mencchmi  of  Duke  Ercole,  among  the  earliest  of 
these  versions.  Guarini  and  Ariosto  followed  on  their 
path  with  translations  from  the  Latin  made  for  special 
occasions.  It  was  thus  that  Italian  comedy  began  to 
disengage  itself  from  Latin.  After  the  presentation  of 
the  original  plays,  came  translation;  and  after  transla- 
tion, imitation.  The  further  transition  from  imitation 
to  freedom  was  never  perfectly  effected.  The  comic 
drama,  determined  in  its  form  by  the  circumstances  of 
its  origin,  remained  emphatically  a  commedia  erudita. 

1  Ep.  Fam.  \,  18,  quoted  by  Tiraboschi. 


TRANSLATIONS    OF  LATIN  COMEDIES.  141 

Adapted  to  the  conditions  of  modern  life,  it  never 
lost  dependence  upon  Latin  models;  and  its  most 
ingenious  representations  of  manners  were  defaced  by 
reminiscences  which  condemn  them  to  a  place  among 
artistic  hybrids.  Ariosto,  who  did  so  much  to  stamp 
Italian  comedy  with  the  mark  of  his  own  genius,  was 
educated,  as  we  have  already  seen,  in  the  traditions 
of  Duke  Ercole's  Latin  theater ;  and  Ariosto  gave  the 
law  to  his  most  genial  successor,  Cecchi.  The  Pegasus 
of  the  Italian  drama,  if  I  may  venture  on  a  burlesque 
metaphor,  was  a  mule  begotten  by  the  sturdy  ass  of 
Latin  on  the  fleet  mare  of  the  Italian  spirit;  and  it 
had  the  sterility  of  the  mule. 

The  year  i5o2,  when  Lucrezia  Borgia  came  as 
Alfonso  d'  Este's  bride  to  Ferrara,  marks  the  climax 
of  these  Latin  spectacles.1  Ercole  had  arranged  a 
theater  in  the  Palace  of  the  Podesta  (now  called  the 
Palazzo  della  Ragione),  which  was  connected  with  the 
castle  by  a  private  gallery.  His  troupe,  recruited 
from  Ferrara,  Rome,  Siena,  and  Mantua,  numbered 
one  hundred  and  ten  actors  of  both  sexes.  Accom- 
plished singers,  dancers,  and  scene-painters  were  sum- 
moned to  add  richness  to  the  spectacle.  We  hear  of 
musical  interludes  performed  by  six  violins;  while 
every  comedy  was  diversified  by  morris-dances  of 
Saracens,  satyrs,  gladiators,  wild  men,  hunters,  and 
allegorical  personages.2  The  entertainment  lasted  over 

1  Gregorovius  in  his  book  on  Lucrezia  Borgia  (pp.  228-239)  has  con- 
densed the  authorities.     See,  too,  Dennistoun,  Dukes  of  Urbino,  vol.  i. 
pp.  441-448. 

2  The  minute  descriptions  furnished  by  Sanudo  of  these  festivals 
read  like  the  prose  letterpress  accompanying  the  Masks  of  our  Ben 
Jonson. 


1 4  2  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITAL  Y. 

five  nights,  a  comedy  of  Plautus  forming  the  principal 
piece  on  each  occasion.  On  the  first  evening  the 
Epidicus  was  given ;  on  the  second,  the  Bacchides;  on 
the  third,  the  Miles  .Gloriosus;  on  the  fourth,  the 
Asinaria;  on  the  fifth,  the  Casina.  From  the  reports 
of  Cagnolo,  Zambotto,  and  Isabella  Gonzaga,  we  are 
led  to  believe  that  the  unlettered  audience  judged  the 
recitations  of  the  Plautine  comedies  somewhat  tedious. 
They  were  in  the  same  position  as  unmusical  people 
of  the  present  day,  condemned  to  listen  to  Bach's 
Passion  Music,  and  afraid  of  expressing  their  dissatis- 
faction. Yet  these  more  frivolous  spectators  found 
ample  gratification  in  the  ingenious  ballets,  accompa- 
nied with  music,  which  relieved  each  act.  The  occa- 
sion was  memorable.  In  those  five  evenings  the  Court 
of  Ferrara  presented  to  the  fashionable  world  of  Italy 
a  carefully-studied  picture  of  Latin  comedy  framed  in 
a  setting  of  luxuriant  modern  arabesques.  The  sim- 
plicity of  Plautus,  executed  with  the  fidelity  born  of 
reverence  for  antique  art,  was  thrown  into  relief  by 
extravagances  borrowed  from  medieval  chivalry,  tinc- 
tured with  Oriental  associations,  enhanced  by  music 
and  colored  with  the  glowing  hues  of  Ferrarese 
imagination.  The  city  of  Boiardo,  of  Dossi,  of  Bello, 
of  Ariosto,  strained  her  resources  to  devise  fantastic 
foils  for  the  antique.  It  was  as  though  Cellini  had 
been  called  to  mount  an  onyx  of  Augustus  in  labyrinths 
of  gold-work  and  enamel  for  the  stomacher  of  a  Grand- 
Duchess. 

We  may  without  exaggeration  affirm  that  the 
practice  of  the  Ferrarese  stage,  culminating  in  the 
marriage  shows  of  i5o2,  determined  the  future  of 


FERRARESE    SPECTACLES. 


'43 


Italian  comedy.  The  fashion  of  the  Court  of  Ercole 
was  followed  by  all  patrons  of  dramatic  art.  When  a 
play  was  written,  the  author  planned  it  in  connection 
with  subordinate  exhibitions  of  dancing  and  music.1 
He  wrote  a  poem  in  five  acts  upon  the  model  of 
Plautus  or  Terence,  understanding  that  his  scenes  of 
classical  simplicity  would  be  embedded  in  the  gro- 
tesques of  cinque  cento  allegory.  The  whole  perform- 
ance lasted  some  six  hours;  but  the  comedy  itself  was 
but  a  portion  of  the  entertainment.  For  the  majority 
of  the  audience  the  dances  and  the  pageants  formed 
the  chief  attraction.2  It  is  therefore  no  marvel  if  the 
drama,  considered  as  a  branch  of  high  poetic  art,  was 
suffocated  by  the  growth  of  its  mere  accessories.  Nor 
was  this  inconsistent  with  the  ruling  tendencies  of  the 
Renaissance.  We  have  no  reason  to  suppose  that 
even  Ariosto  or  Machiavelli  grudged  the  participation 
of  painters  like  Peruzzi,  musicians  like  Dalla  Viuola, 
architects  like  San  Gallo,  and  dancers  of  ephemeral 
distinction,  in  the  triumph  of  their  plays. 

The  habit  of  regarding  scenic  exhibitions  as  the 
adjunct  to  extravagant  Court  luxury,  prevented  the  de- 
velopment of  a  theater  in  which  the  genius  of  poets 

>  II  Lasca  in  his  prologue  to  the  Strega  (ed.  cit.  p.  171)  says:  "  Questa 
non  e  fatta  da  principi,  n&  da  signori,  n£  in  palazzi  ducali  e  signorili;  e 
pero  non  avra  quella  pompa  d'  apparato,  di  prospettiva,  e  d'  intermedj 
che  ad  alcune  altre  nei  tempi  nostri  s'  e  veduto." 

2  A  fine  example  of  the  Italian  Mask  is  furnished  by  El  Sacrificio, 
played  with  great  pomp  by  the  Intronati  of  Siena  in  1531  and  printed  in 
1537.  El  Sacrificio  de  gli  Intronati  Celebrate  ne  i  giuochi  del  Carno- 
vale  in  Siena  /'  Anno  MDXXXL  Full  particulars  regarding  the  music, 
mise  en  scene,  and  ballets  on  such  ceremonial  occasions,  will  be  found  in 
two  curious  pamphlets,  Descrizione  dell'  Apparato  fatto  nel  Tempio  di 
S.  Giov.  di  Fiorenza,  etc.  (Giunti,  1568),  and  Descrizione  dell'  Entrata 
della  Serenissima  Reina  Giovanna  d1  Austria,  etc.  (Giunti,  1566). 
They  refer  to  a  later  period,  but  they  abound  in  the  most  curious  details. 


144  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

might  have  shone  with  undimmed  intellectual  luster. 
The  want  of  permanent  buildings,  devoted  to  acting, 
in  any  great  Italian  town,  may  again'- be  reckoned 
among  the  causes  which  checked  the  expansion  of  the 
drama.  When  a  play  had  to  be  acted,  a  ^st|ge  was 
erected  at  a  great  expense  for  the  occasion.1  """It  is  true 
that  Alfonso  I.  built  a  theater  after  Ariosto's  designs 
at  Ferrara  in  1628;  but  it  was  burnt  down  in  1532. 
According  to  Gregorovius,  Leo  X.  fitted  one  up  at 
Rome  upon  the  Capitol  in  1 5 13,2  capable  of  holding 
the  two  thousand  spectators  who  witnessed  a  perform- 
ance of  the  Suppositi.  This  does'  not,  however,  seem  to 
have  been  used  continuously;  nor  was  it  until  the 
second  half  of  the  sixteenth  century  that  theaters 
began  to  form  a  part  of  the  palatial  residences  of 
princes.  One  precious  relic  of  those  more  permanent 
stages  remains  to  show  the  style  they  then  assumed. 
This  is  the  Teatro  Farnese  at  Parma,  erected  in  1618 
by  Ranuzio  I.  after  the  design  of  Galeotti  Aleotti  of 
Ferrara.  It  could  accommodate  seven  thousand  spec- 
tators; and,  though  now  in  ruins,  it  is  still  a  stately 
and  harmonious  monument  of  architectural  magnifi^ 
cence.3  What,  however,  was  always  wanting  in  Italy 
was  a  theater  open  to  all  classes  and  at  all  seasons  of 
the  year,  where  the  people  might  have  been  the  patrons 
of  their  playwrights.4 

i  See  the  details  brought  together  by  Campori,  Notizie per  la  vita 
di  Lodovico  Ariosto,  p.  74,  Casttglione's  letter  on  the  Calandra  at  Ur- 
bino,  the  private  representation  of  the  Rosmunda  in  the  Rucellai  gar- 
dens, of  the  Orbccche  in  Giraldi's  house,  of  the  Sofonisba  at  Vicenza, 
of  Gelli's  Errore  by  the  Fantastichi,  etc. 

»  Stadt  Rom,  viii.  350. 

»  See  the  article  "  Fornovo  "  in  my  Sketches  and  Studies  in  Italy. 

4  At  this  point,  in  illustration  of  what  has  been  already  stated,  I  take 
the  opportunity  of  transcribing  a  passage  which  fairly  represents  the  con- 


ITALIANIZATION   OF   COMEDY. 


145 


The  transition  from  Latin  to  Italian  comedy  was 
effected  almost  simultaneously  by  three  poets,  Ber- 
nardo Dovizio,  Lodovico  Ariosto,  and  Niccolo  Machia- 
velli.  Dovizio  was  born  at  Bibbiena  in  1470.  He 
attached  himself  to  the  Cardinal  Giovanni  de'  Medici, 
and  received  the  scarlet  from  his  master  in  1613.  We 
need  not  concern  ourselves  with  his  ecclesiastical 
career.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  the  Calandra,  which 
raised  him  to  a  foremost  place  among  the  literary  men 
of  Italy,  was  composed  before  his  elevation  to  the 
dignity  of  Cardinal,  and  was  first  performed  at  Urbino 
some  time  between  the  dates  1604  and  i5i3,  possibly 
in  i5o8.  The  reader  will  already  have  observed  that 
the  most  popular  Latin  play,  both  at  Ferrara  and  Rome, 
was  the  Memzchmi  of  Plautus.  In  Dovizio's  Calandra 
the  influence  of  this  comedy  is  so  noticeable  that  we 
may  best  describe  it  as  an  accommodation  of  the  Latin 
form  to  Italian  circumstance.  The  intrigue  depends 
upon  the  close  resemblance  of  a  brother  and  sister, 
Lidio  and  Santilla,  whose  appearance  by  turns  in  male 
and  female  costume  gives  rise  to  a  variety  of  farcical 
incidents.  The  name  is  derived  from  Calandro,  a 
simpleton  of  Calandrino's  type ;  and  the  interest  of  the 
plot  is  that  of  a  Novella.  The  characters  are  very 

ditions  of  play-going  in  the  cinque  cento.  Doni,  in  the  Marmi,  gives  this 
description  of  two  comedies  performed  in  the  Sala  del  Papa  of  the  Palazzo 
Vecchio  at  Florence.*  "  By  my  faith,  in  Florence  never  was  there  any- 
thing so  fine:  two  stages,  one  at  each  end  of  the  Hall:  two  wonderful 
scenes,  the  one  by  Francesco  Salviati/the  other  by  Bronzino:  two  most 
amusing  comedies,  and  of  the  newest  coinage;  the  Mandragola  and  the 
Assiuola:  when  the  first  act  of  the  one  was  over,  there  followed  the  first 
act  of  the  other,  and  so  forth,  each  play  taking  up  the  other,  without 
interludes,  in  such  wise  that  the  one  comedy  served  as  interlude  for  the 
other.  The  music  began  at  the  opening,  and  ended  with  the  close." 

*  Barbdra's  edition,  1863,  vol.  i.  p.  67. 


1 46  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

slightly  sketched;  but  the  movement  is  continuous, 
and  the  dialogue  is  always  lively.  The  Calandra 
achieved  immediate  success  by  reproducing  both  the 
humor  of  Boccaccio  and  the  invention  of  Plautus  in 
the  wittiest  vernacular.1  A  famous  letter  of  Baldassare 
Castiglione,  describing  its  representation  at  Urbino, 
enlarges  upon  the  splendor  of  the  scenery  and  dresses, 
the  masks  of  Jason,  Venus,  Love,  Neptune,  and 
Juno,  accompanied  by  morris-dances  and  concerts  of 
stringed  instruments,  which  were  introduced  as  inter- 
ludes.2 From  Urbino  the  comedy  passed  through  all 
the  Courts  of  Italy,  finding  the  highest  favor  at  Rome, 
where  Leo  more  than  once  decreed  its  representation. 
One  of  these  occasions  was  memorable.  Wishing  to 
entertain  the  Marchioness  Isabella  of  Mantua  (i5i4), 
he  put  the  Calandra  with  great  pomp  upon  his  private 
stage  in  the  Vatican.  Baldassare  Peruzzi  designed 
and  painted  the  decorations,  giving  a  new  impulse  to 
this  species  of  art  by  the  beauty  of  his  inventions.3 

Leo  had  an  insatiable  appetite  for  scenic  shows. 
Comedies  of  the  new  Latinizing  style  were  his  favor- 
ite recreation.  But  he  also  invited  the  Sienese  Com- 
pany of  the  Rozzi,  who  only  played  farces,  every  year 
to  Rome;  nor  was  he  averse  to  even  less  artistic 
buffoonery,  as  may  be  gathered  from  many  of  the 

'  One  of  the  chief  merits  of  the  Calandra  in  the  eyes  of  contempora- 
ries was  the  successful  adaptation  of  Boccaccio's  style  to  the  stage. 
Though  Italians  alone  have  the"  right  to  pronounce  judgment  on  such 
matters,  I  confess  to  preferring  the  limpid  ease  of  Ariosto  and  the  ple- 
beian freshness  of  Gelli.  The  former  has  the  merit  of  facile  lucidity, 
the  latter  of  native  raciness.  Bibbiena's  somewhat  pompous  phraseol- 
ogy sits  ill  upon  his  farcical  obscenities. 

3  See  the  translation  in  Dennistoun,  vol.  ii.  p.  141. 

3  See  Vasari,  viii.  227. 


THE    CALANDRA    AND   LEO   X.  I47 

stories  told  about  him.1  In  1 5 1 3  Leo  opened  a  theater 
upon  the  Capitol,  and  here  in  1619,  surrounded  with 
two  thousand  spectators,  he  witnessed  an  exhibition 
of  Ariosto's  Suppositi.  We  have  a  description  of  the 
scene  from  the  pen  of  an  eye-witness,  who  relates  how 
the  Pope  sat  at  the  entrance  to  the  gallery  leading  into 
the  theater,  and  admitted  with  his  benediction  those 
whom  he  thought  worthy  of  partaking  in  the  night's 
amusements.2  When  the  house  was  full,  he  took  his 
throne  in  the  orchestra,  and  sat,  with  eye-glass  in  hand, 
to  watch  the  play.  Raphael  had  painted  the  scenery, 
which  is  said  to  have  been,  and  doubtless  was,  ex- 
tremely beautiful.  Leo's  behavior  scandalized  the 
foreign  embassadors,  who  thought  it  indecorous  that  a 
Pope  should  not  only  listen  to  the  equivocal  jests  of 
the  Prologue  but  also  laugh  immoderately  at  them.3 
As  usual,  the  inter-acts  consisted  of  vocal  and  instru- 
mental concerts,  with  ballets  on  classical  and  allegorical 
subjects. 

Enough  has  now  been  said  concerning  the  mode  of 
presenting  comedies  in  vogue  throughout  Italy.  The 
mention  of  Leo's  entertainment  in  1619  introduces  the 
subject  of  Ariosto's  plays.  The  Suppositi,  originally 
written  in  prose  and  afterwards  versified  by  its  author, 
first  appeared  in  i5o9  at  Ferrara.  In  the  preceding 

1  See  D*  Ancona,  op.  cit.  vol.  ii.  p.  250,  for  the  special  nature  of  the 
Pars  a.    See  also  ib.  p.  211,  the  description  by  Paolucci  of  Leo's  buffoon- 
eries in  the  Vatican. 

2  See  Campori,  Notizie  Inedite  di  Raffaello  di  Urbino,  Modena,  1863, 
quoted  by  D'  Ancona,  op.  cit.  p.  212.    The  entertainment  cost  Leo  1,000 
ducats. 

3  No  doubt  Paolucci  refers  to  the  obscene  play  upon  the  word  Sup- 
positi, and  to  the  ironical  epithet  of  Santa  applied  to  Roma  in  a  pas- 
sage which  does  no  honor  to  Ariosto. 


148  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

year  Ariosto  exhibited  the  Cassaria,  which,  like  the 
Suppositi,  was  planned  in  prose  and  subsequently  ver- 
sified in  sdrucciolo  iambics.1 

In  Ariosto's  comedies  the  form  of  Roman  art  be- 
comes a  lay-figure,  dressed  according  to  various  modes 
of  the  Italian  Renaissance./  The  wire-work,  so  to 
speak,  of  Plautus  or  of  Terence  can  be  everywhere  de- 
tected; but  this  skeleton  has  been  incarnated  with 
modern  flesh  and  blood,  habited  in  Ferrarese  costume, 
and  taught  the  paces  of  contemporary  fashion.  Blent 
with  the  traditions  of  Plautine  comedy,  we  find  in  each 
of  the  four  plays  an  Italian  Novella.  The  motive  is  in- 
variably trivial.  In  the  Cassaria  two  young  men  are 
in  love  with  two  girls  kept  by  a  slave-merchant.  The 
intrigue  turns  upon  the  arts  of  their  valets,  who  cheat 
the  pander  and  procure  the  girls  for  nothing  for  their 
masters.  In  the  Suppositi  a  young  man  of  good  family 
has  assumed  the  part  of  servant,  in  order  to  seduce 
the  daughter  of  his  master.  The  devices  by  which  he 
contrives  to  secure  her  hand  in  marriage,  furnish  the 
action  of  the  play.  The  Lena  has  even  a  simpler 
plan.  A  young  man  needs  a  few  quiet  hours  for  cor- 
rupting his  neighbor's  daughter.  Lena,  the  chief 
actress,  will  not  serve  as  a  go-between  without  a  sum 
of  ready  money  paid  down  by  the  hero.  The  move- 

1  For  the  dates  of  Ariosto's  dramatic  compositions,  see  above,  Part  i, 
p.  499.  The  edition  I  shall  refer  to,  is  that  of  Giovanni  Tortoli  (Firenze. 
Barbera,  1856),  which  gives  both"  the  prose  and  verse  redactions  of  the 
Cassaria  and  Suppositi.  It  may  here  be  incidentally  remarked  that 
there  are  few  thoroughly  good  editions  of  Italian  plays.  Descriptions 
of  the  dramatis  persona;,  stage  directions,  and  illustrative  notes  are  al- 
most uniformly  wanting.  The  reader  is  left  to  puzzle  out  an  intricate 
action  without  help.  All  the  slang,  the  local  customs,  and  the  passing 
allusions  which  give  life  to  comedy  and  present  so  many  difficulties  to 
the  student,  are  for  the  most  part  unexplained. 


PLOTS    OF  ARIOSTO'S   PLAYS. 


149 


ment  of  the  piece  depends  on  the  expedients  whereby 
this  money  is  raised,  and  the  farcical  obstacles  which 
interrupt  the  lovers  at  the  point  of  their  felicity.  In 
the  Negromante  a  young  man  has  been  secretly  married 
to  one  woman,  and  openly  to  another.  Cinthio  loves 
his  real  wife,  Lavinia,  and  feigns  impotence  in  order  to 
explain  his  want  of  affection  for  Emilia,  who  is  the  re- 
cognized mistress  of  his  home.  An  astrologer,  lacche- 
lino,  holds  the  threads  of  the  intrigue  in  his  hands. 
Possessed  of  Cinthio's  secret,  paid  by  the  parents  of 
Emilia  to  restore  Cinthio's  virility,  paid  again  by  a 
lover  of  Emilia  to  advance  his  own  suit,  and  seeking 
in  the  midst  of  these  rival  interests  to  make  money 
out  of  the  follies  and  ambitions  of  his  clients,  lacche- 
lino  has  the  whole  domestic  company  at  his  discre- 
tion. The  comic  point  lies  in  the  various  passions 
which  betray  each  dupe  to  the  astrologer — Cinthio's 
wish  to  escape  from  Emilia,  Camillo's  eagerness  to  win 
her,  the  old  folks'  anxiety  to  cure  Cinthio.  Temolo,  a 
servant,  who  is  hoodwinked  by  no  personal  desire,  sees 
that  lacchelino  is  an  impostor;  and  the  inordinate 
avarice  of  the  astrologer  undoes  him.  Thus  the 
Negromante  presents  a  really  fine  comic  web  of 
humors  at  cross  purposes  and  appetites  that  over- 
reach themselves. 

There  is  considerable  similarity  in  Ariosto's  plots. 
In  all  of  them,  except  the  Negromante,  we  have  a  sub- 
plot which  brings  a  tricksy  valet  into  play.  A  sum  of 
money  is  imperatively  needed  to  effect  the  main 
scheme  of  the  hero;  and  this  has  to  be  provided  by 
the  servant's  ingenuity.  Such  direct  satire  as  the 
poet  thought  fit  to  introduce,  is  common  to  them  all, 


150  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

It  concerns  the  costs,  delays  and  frauds  of  legal  pro- 
cedure, favoritism  at  Court,  the  Ferrarese  game-laws, 
and  the  tyranny  of  custom-house  officials.  But  satire 
of  an  indirect,  indulgent  species — the  Horatian  satire 
of  Ariosto's  own  epistles — adds  a  pleasant  pungency  to 
his  pictures  of  contemporary  manners  no  less  than  to 
his  occasional  discourses.  The  prologue  to  the  Cas- 
saria,  on  its  reappearance  as  a  versified  play,  might  be 
quoted  for  the  perfection  of  genial  sarcasm,  playing 
about  the  foibles  of  society  without  inflicting  a  serious 
wound.  All  the  prologues,  however,  are  not  innocent. 
Those  prefixed  to  the  Lena  and  the  Suppositi  contain 
allusions  so  indecent,  and  veil  obscenities  under  meta- 
phors so  flimsy,  as  to  justify  a  belief  in  Ariosto's  vul- 
garity of  soul.  Here  the  satirist  borders  too  much 
on  the  sympathizer  with  a  vice  he  professes  to  con- 
demn. 

It  remains  to  speak  of  the  Scolastica,  a  comedy  left 
incomplete  at  Ariosto's  death,  and  finished  by  his 
brother  Gabrielle,  but  bearing  the  unmistakable  stamp 
of  his  ripest  genius  impressed  upon  the  style  no  less 
than  on  the  structure  of  the  plot.1  The  scene  is  laid 
at  Ferrara,  where  we  find  ourselves  among  the  scholars 
of  its  famous  university,  and  are  made  acquainted  in 
the  liveliest  manner  with  their  habits.  The  heroes  are 
two  young  students,  Claudio  and  Eurialo,  firm  friends, 
who  have  passed  some  years  at  Pavia  reading  with 
Messer  Lazzaro,  a  doctor  of  laws.  The  disturbance  of 
the  country  having  driven  both  professors  and  pupils 

1  Gabrielle  added  the  last  two  scenes  of  the  fifth  act.  See  his  pro- 
logue. But  whether  he  introduced  any  modifications  into  the  body  ot 
the  play,  or  filled  up  any  gaps,  does  not  appear. 


THE    SCOLASTICA.  151 

from  Pavia,1  a  variety  of  accidents  brings  all  the  actors 
of  the  comedy  to  Ferrara,  where  Eurialo  is  living  with 
his  father,  Bartolo.  Of  course  the  two  lads  are  in  love 
— Claudio  with  the  daughter  of  his  former  tutor,  and 
Eurialo  with  a  fatherless  girl  in  the  service  of  a  noble 
lady  at  Pavia.  The  intrigue  is  rather  farcical  than 
comic.  It  turns  upon  the  difficulties  encountered  by 
Claudio  and  Eurialo  in  concealing  their  sweethearts 
from  their  respective  fathers,  the  absurd  mistakes  they 
make  in  the  hurry  of  the  moment,  and  the  misunder- 
standings which  ensue  between  themselves  and  the 
old  people.  Ariosto  has  so  cleverly  complicated  the 
threads  of  his  plot  and  has  developed  them  with  such 
lucidity  of  method  that  any  analysis  would  fall  short 
of  the  original  in  brevity  and  clearness.  The  de- 
nouement is  effected  by  the  device  of  a  recognition  at 
the  last  moment.  Eurialo's  innamorata  is  found  to  be 
the  lost  ward  of  his  father,  Bartolo;  and  Claudio  is 
happily  married  to  his  love,  Flaminia.  The  merit  of 
the  play  lies,  however,  less  in  the  argument  than  the 
characters,  which  are  ably  conceived  and  sustained 
with  more  than  even  Ariosto's  usual  skill.  The  timid 
and  perplexed  Eurialo,  trembling  before  his  terrible 
father,  seeking  advice  from  every  counselor,  despair- 
ing, resigning  himself  to  fate,  is  admirably  contrasted 
with  the  more  passionate  and  impulsive  Claudio,  who 
takes  rash  steps  with  inconsiderate  boldness,  relies  on 
his  own  address  to  extricate  himself,  and  vibrates  be- 
tween the  ecstasies  of  love  and  the  suspicions  of  an 

1  Poiche  a  Pavia  levato  era  il  salario 
Alii  dottor,  ne  piu  si  facea  studio 
Per  le  guerre  che  piu  ogni  di  augumentano. 


152  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

angry  jealousy.1  Bartolo,  burdened  in  his  conscience 
by  an  ancient  act  of  broken  faith,  and  punished  in  the 
disobedience  of  his  son,  forms  an  excellent  pendent  to 
the  honest  but  pedantic  Messer  Lazzaro,  who  cannot 
bear  to  see  his  daughter  suffer  from  an  -unrequited 
passion.2  Each  of  the  servants,  too,  has  a  well-marked 
physiognomy — the  witty  Accursio,  picking  up  what 
learning  he  can  from  his  master's  books,  and  turning 
all  he  says  to  epigrams;  the  easy-going,  Bacchanalian 
duenna;  blunt  Pistone;  garrulous  Stanna.  But  the 
most  original  of  all  the  dramatis  persona  is  Bonifazio, 
that  excellent  keeper  of  lodgings  for  Ferrarese  students, 
who  identifies  himself  with  their  interests,  sympathizes 
in  their  love-affairs,  takes  side  with  them  against  their 
fathers,  and  puts  his  conscience  in  his  pocket  when  re- 
quired to  pull  them  out  of  scrapes.3  Each  of  these 
characters  has  been  copied  from  the  life.  The  taint  of 
Latin  comedy  has  been  purged  out  of  them.4  They 

1  Their  opposite  humors  are  admirably  developed  in  the  dialogues 
of  act  ii.  sc.  5,  act  iii.  sc.  5. 

2  Compare  Bartolo's  soliloquy  in  act  iv.  sc.  6,  with  Lazzaro 's  confi- 
dences to  Bonifazio,  whom  he  mistakes  for  Bartolo,  in  act  v.  sc.  3. 

3  His  action  in  the  comedy  is  admirably  illustrated  by  the  self- reve- 
lation of  the  following  soliloquy  (act  iv.  sc.  i): 

lo  vub  a  ogni  modo  aiutar  questo  giovane, 
E  dir  dieci  bugie,  perche  ad  incorrere 
Non  abbia  con  suo  padre  in  rissa  e  in  scandalo: 
E  cosi  ancor  quest'  altro  mio,  che  all'  ultima 
Disperazione  £  condotto  da  un  credere 
Falso  e  da  gelosia  che  a  torto  il  stimola. 
Ne  mi  vergognerb  d'"ordire,  o  tessere 
Fallacie  e  giunti,  e  far  cid  ch'  eran  solid 
Gli  antichi  servi  gid  nelle  commedie: 
Che  veramente  1'  aiutare  un  povero 
Innamorato,  non  mi  pare  uffizio 
Servil,  ma  di  gentil  qualsivoglia  animo. 

<  The  process  is  well  indicated  in  the  lines  I  have  italicized  in  Boni- 


CHARACTERS. 


153 


move,  speak,  act  like  living  beings,  true  to  themselves 
in  every  circumstance,  and  justifying  the  minutest 
details  of  the  argument  by  the  operation  of  their  several 
qualities  of  head  and  heart.  Viewed  as  a  work  of 
pure  dramatic  art,  the  Scolastica  is  not  only  the  most 
genial  and  sympathetic  of  Ariosto's  comedies,  but  also 
the  least  fettered  by  his  Latinizing  prepossessions, 
and  the  strongest  in  psychological  analysis.  Like  the 
Lena,  it  has  the  rare  merit  of  making  us  at  home 
in  the  Ferrara  which  he  knew  so  well;  but  it  does  not, 
like  that  play,  disgust  us  by  the  spectacle  of  abject 
profligacy.1  There  is  a  sunny,  jovial  freshness  in  this 
latest  product  of  Ariosto's  genius,  which  invigorates 
while  it  amuses  and  instructs. 

The  Scolastica  is  not  without  an  element  of  satire. 
I  have  said  that  Bartolo  had  a  sin  upon  his  conscience. 
In  early  manhood  he  promised  to  adopt  a  friend's 
daughter,  and  to  marry  her  in  due  course  to  his  own 
Eurialo.  But  he  neglected  this  duty,  lost  sight  of  the 
girl,  and  appropriated  her  heritage.  He  has  reason 
to  think  that  she  may  still  be  found  in  Naples;  and 
the  parish  priest  to  whom  he  confided  his  secret  in 
confession,  will  not  absolve  him,  unless  he  take  the 
journey  and  do  all  he  can  to  rectify  the  error  of  his 
past.  Bartolo  is  disinclined  to  this  long  pilgrimage, 
with  the  probable  loss  of  a  fortune  at  the  end  of  it.  In 
his  difficulty  he  has  recourse  to  a  Frate  Predicatore, 

fazio's  soliloquy.  He  is  no  longer  a  copy  of  the  Latin  slaves,  but  a  free 
agent  who  emulates  their  qualities. 

i  With  all  adjuration  for  the  Lena,  how  can  we  appreciate  the  cyni- 
cism of  the  situation  revealed  in  the  first  scene — the  crudely  exposed 
appetites  of  Flavio,  the  infamous  conduct  of  Fazio,  who  places  his 
daughter  under  the  tutelage  of  his  old  mistress  ? 


154  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

who  professes  to  hold  ample  powers  for  dispensing 
with  troublesome  vows  and  pious  obligations l : 

Voi  potete  veder  la  bolla,  e  leggere 
Le  facultadi  mie,  che  sono  amplissime; 
E  come,  senza  che  pigliate,  Bartolo, 
Questo  pellegrinaggio,  io  posso  assolvere 
E  commutar  i  voti;  e  maravigliomi, 
Che  essendo,  com'  io  son,  vostro  amicissimo, 
Non  m'  abbiate  richiesto;  perche,  dandomi 
Quel  solamente  che  potreste  spendere 
Voi  col  famiglio  nel  viaggio,  assolvere 
Vi  posso,  e  farvi  schifar  un  grandissimo 
Disconcio,  all'  etk  vostra  incomportabile: 
Oltra  diversi  infiniti  pericoli, 
Che  ponno  a  chi  va  per  cammino  occorrere. 

The  irony  of  this  speech  depends  upon  its  plain  and 
business-like  statement  of  a  simoniacal  bargain,  which 
will  prove  of  mutual  benefit  to  the  parties  concerned. 
Bartolo  confides  his  case  of  conscience  to  the  Friar, 
previously  telling  him  that  he  has  confessed  it  to  the 
parson: 

Ma  non  mi  sa  decidere 
Questo  caso,  che,  come  voi,  teologo 
Non  e;  sa  un  poco  di  ragion  canonica. 

At  the  close  of  the  communication,  which  is  admirable 
for  its  lucid  exposition  of  a  domestic  romance  adapted 
to  the  circumstances  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the  Friar 
asks  his  penitent  once  more  whether  he  would  not 
willingly  escape  this  pilgrimage.  Who  could  doubt  it  ? 
answers  Bartolo.  Well  then: 

Ben  si  potrJi  commutare  in  qualche  opera 
Pia.     Non  si  trova  al  mondo  si  forte  obbligo, 
Che  non  si  possa  scior  con  1'  elemosine. 

Here  again  the  sarcasm  consists  in  the   hypocritical 

«  Act  iii.  sc.  6. 


SATIRE    OF   THE    SCOLASTICA.  155 

adaptation  of  the  old  axiom  that  everything  in  this 
world  can  be  got  for  money.  On  both  sides  the  trans- 
action is  commercial.  Bartolo,  like  a  good  man  of 
business,  wishes  to  examine  the  Prate's  title-deeds 
before  he  engages  in  the  purchase  of  his  spiritual 
privileges.  In  other  words  he  must  be  permitted  to 
examine  the  Bull  of  Indulgence1: 

Porterollavi, 

E  ve  la  lascero  vedere  e  leggere. 
Siate  pur  certo  che  la  bolla  e  amplissima, 
E  che  di  tutti  i  casi,  componendovi 
Meco,  vi  posso  interamente  assolvere, 
Non  meno  che  potria  '1  Papa  medesimo. 
Bartolo.    Vi  credo;  nondimeno,  per  iscarico 
Delia  mia  coscienza,  la  desidero 
Veder,  e  farla  anco  vedere  e  leggere 
Al  mio  parrocchiano. 

Frate.  Ora  sia  in  nomine 

Domini,  porterolla,  e  mostrerolla 
A  chi  vi  pare. 

We  may  further  notice  how  the  parish  priest  is  here 
meant  to  play  the  part  of  solicitor  in  the  bargain.  He 
does  not  deal  in  these  spiritual  commodities;  but  he 
can  give  advice  upon  the  point  of  validity.  The  epi- 
sode of  Bartolo  and  the  Dominican  reminds  us  that 
we  are  on  the  eve  of  the  Reformation.  While  Rome 
and  Ferrara  laughed  at  the  hypocrisies,  credulities,  and 
religious  frauds  implied  in  such  transactions,  Northern 
Europe  broke  into  flame,  and  Luther  opened  the  great 
schism.2 

1  Act  iv.  sc.  4.    In  the  last  line  but  one,  ought  we  not  to  read  mostre- 
ratela  or  else  mostrerollavi  ? 

8  Room  must  be  found  for  a  few  of  the  sarcasms,  uttered  chiefly  by 
Accursio,  which  enliven  the  Scolastica.     Here  are  the  humanists: 

questi  umanisti,  che  cercano 
Medaglie,  e  di  rovesci  si  dilettano. 


156  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

The  artistic  merit  of  Ariosto's  comedies  consists  in 
the  perfection  of  their  structure.  However  involved 
the  intrigues  may  be,  we  experience  no  difficulty  in 
following  them;  so  masterly  is  their  development.1 

may  be  objected  that  he  too  frequently  resorts  to  the 
device  of  anagnorisis,  in  order  to  solve  a  problem 
which  cannot  find  its  issue  in  the  action.  This  me- 
chanical solution  is  so  obviously  employed  to  make 
things  easy  for  the  author  that  no  interest  attaches  to 
the  climax  of  his  fables.  Yet  the  characters  are  drawn 
with  that  ripe  insight  into  human  nature  which  dis- 
tinguished Ariosto.  Machiavelli  observed  that,  being 
a  native  of  Ferrara,  cautious  in  the  handling  of  Tuscan 
idioms,  and  unwilling  to  use  the  dialect  of  his  own 
city,  Ariosto  missed  the  salt  of  comedy.2  There  is 
truth  in  this  criticism.  Matched  with  the  best  Floren- 
tine dialogues,  his  language  wants  the  raciness  of  the 
vernacular.  The  sdrucciolo  verse,  which  he  preferred, 
fatigues  the  ear  and  adds  to  the  impression  of  formality. 

Here  is  Rome: 

Roma,  dove  intendono 
Che  '1  sangue  degli  Apostoli  e  de'  Martiri 
fe  molto  dolce,  e  a  lor  spese  e  un  bel  vivere. 

Here  is  Ferrara: 

Ferrara,  ove  pur  vedesi 
Che  fmo  alii  barbieri  paion  nobili. 

Here  are  the  Signori  of  Naples: 

da  Napoli. 

Ho  ben  inteso  che  ve  n'  ft  piu  copia 
Che  a  Ferrara  di  C'onti;  e  credo  ch'  abbiano, 
Come  questi  contado,  quei  dominio. 

i  Cecchi  noticed  the  lucid  order,  easy  exposition  and  smooth  con- 
duct of  Ariosto's  plots,  ranking  him  for  these  qualities  above  the  Latin 
poets.  See  the  passage  from  Le  Pellegrine  quoted  below. 

«  In  an  essay  on  the  Italian  language,  included  among  Machiavelli's 
works,  but  ascribed  to  him  on  no  very  certain  ground. 


ARIOSTO'S    QUALITY  AS   PLAYWRIGHT. 


157 


He  frequently  interrupts  the  action  with  tirades,  talk- 
ing, as  it  were,  in  his  own  person  to  the  audience,  in- 
stead of  making  his  characters  speak.1  Yet  foreigners, 
who  study  his  comedies  side  by  side  with  Plautus,  at 
almost  the  same  distance  of  unfamiliarity,  will  recog- 
nize the  brilliance  of  his  transcripts  from  contemporary 
life.  These  studies  of  Italian  manners  are  eminent 
for  good  taste,  passing  at  no  point  into  extravagance, 
and  only  marred  by  a  certain  banality  of  moral  in- 
stinct. The  Lena  has  the  highest  value  as  a  picture  of 
Ferrarese  society.  We  have  good  reason  to  believe 
that  it  was  founded  on  an  actual  incident.  It  deserves 
to  rank  with  Machiavelli's  Mandragola  and  Aretino's 
Cortigiana  for  the  light  it  throws  on  sixteenth-century 
customs.  And  the  light  is  far  more  natural,  less  lurid, 
less  partial,  than  that  which  either  Machiavelli  or 
Aretino  shed  upon  the  vices  of  their  century. 

Of  Machiavelli  we  have  two  genuine  comedies  in 
prose,  the  Mandragola  and  the  Clizia,  and  two  of 
doubtful  authenticity,  called  respectively  Commedia  in 
Prosa  and  Commedia  in  Vcrsi,  besides  a  translation  of 
the  Andria?  Judging  by  internal  evidence  alone,  a 
cautious  critic  would  reject  the  Commedia  in  Versi  from 
the  canon  of  Machiavelli's  works ;  and  if  the  existence 
of  a  copy  in  his  autograph  has  to  be  taken  as  conclu- 
sive evidence  of  its  genuineness,  we  can  only  accept  it 
as  a  crude  and  juvenile  production.  It  is  written  in 

1  Notice  the  long  monologue  of  the  Cassaria  in  which  Lucramo 
describes  the  fashionable  follies  of  Ferrara.    Ariosto  gradually  outgrew 
this  habit  of  tirade.     The  Scolastica  is  freer  than  any  of  his  pieces  from 
the  fault. 

2  Le  Commedie  di  N.  Machiavelli,  con  prefazione  di  F.  Perfetti,  Fi- 
renze,  Barbara,  1863. 


1 5  8  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITAL  Y. 

various  measures,  a  graceless  octave  stanza  rhyming 
only  in  the  last  couplet  being  used  instead  of  blank 
verse,  while  many  of  the  monologues  are  lyrical.  The 
language  is  crabbed,  uncertain,  archaistic — in  no  point 
displaying  the  incisive  brevity  of  Machiavelli's  style. 
The  scene  is  laid  in  ancient  Rome,  and  the  intrigue 
turns  upon  a  confusion  between  two  names,  Catillo 
and  Cammillo.  The  conventional  parasite  of  antiquity 
and  the  inevitable  slaves  play  prominent  parts;  while 
the  plot  is  solved  by  a  preposterous  exchange  of  wives 
between  the  two  chief  characters.  Thus  the  fabric  of 
the  comedy  throughout  is  unnatural  and  false  to  the 
conditions  of  real  life.  Were  it  not  for  some  piquant 
studies  of  Italian  manners,  scattered  here  and  there  in 
the  descriptive  passages,  this  Commedia  in  Versi  would 
scarcely  deserve  passing  notice.1 

The  Commedia  in  Prosa,  for  which  we  might  find  a 
title  in  the  name  of  the  chief  personage,  Fra  Alberigo, 
displays  the  spirit  and  the  style  of  the  Mandragola. 
Critics  who  do  not  accept  it  for  Machiavelli's  own, 
must  assume  it  to  have  been  the  work  of  a  clever  and 
obsequious  imitator.  It  is  a  short  piece  in  three  acts 
written  to  expose  the  corruption  of  a  Florentine  house- 

i  Take  this  picture  of  Virginia  (act  i.  sc.  2): 

Ap.     Dilettasi  ella  dar  prova  a  filare, 

O  tessere,  o  cucire,  com'  e  usanza  ? 
Mis.     No,  che  far  lassa  tal  cosa  a  sua  madre. 
Ap.     Di  che  piglia  piacer  ? 
Mis.  Delle  finestre, 

Dove  la  sta  dal  mattino  alia  sera, 

E  vaga  6  di  novelle,  suoni  e  canti, 

E  studia  in  lisci,  e  dorme,  e  cuce  in  guanti. 

Or  the  picture  of  the  lovers  in  church  described  by  the  servant,  Doria 
(act  iii.  sc.  2),  or  Virginia's  portrait  of  her  jealous  husband  (act  iii. 
sc.  5). 


MACHIAVELLPS   FRA    ALBERIGO.  I5g 

hold  Caterina,  the  heroine,  is  a  young  wife  married 
to  an  old  husband,  Amerigo.  Their  maid-servant, 
Margherita,  holds  the  threads  of  the  intrigue  in  her 
hands.  She  has  been  solicited  on  the  one  side  by 
Amerigo  to  help  him  in  his  amours  with  a  neighbor's 
wife,  and  on  the  other  by  the  friar,  Alberigo,  to  win 
Caterina  to  his  suit.  The  devices  whereby  Margherita 
brings  her  mistress  and  the  monk  together,  cheats 
Amerigo  of  his  expected  enjoyment,  and  so  contrives 
that  the  despicable  but  injured  husband  should  establish 
Fra  Alberigo  in  the  position  of  a  favored  house-friend, 
constitute  the  argument.  Short  as  the  play  is,  it 
combines  the  chief  points  of  the  Clizia  and  the 
Mondragola  in  a  single  action,  and  may  be  regarded 
as  the  first  sketch  of  two  situations  afterwards 
developed  with  more  fullness  by  the  author.1  The 
language  is  coarse,  and  the  picture  of  manners,  ex- 
ecuted with  remorseless  realism,  would  be  revolting 
but  for  its  strong  workmanship.2  The  playwright 
expended  his  force  on  the  servant-maid  and  the  friar, 
those  two  instruments  of  domestic  immorality.  Fra 

1  The  scene  between  Caterina  and  Amerigo,  when  the  latter  is  caught 
in  flagrant  adultery  (act  iii.  5),  anticipates  the  catastrophe  of  the  Clizia. 
The  final  scene  between  Caterina,  Amerigo,  and  Fra  Alberigo  bears  a 
close  resemblance  to  the  climax  of  the  Mandragola.  On  the  hypothesis 
that  this  comedy  is  not  Machiavelli's  but  an  imitator's,  the  playwright 
must  have  had  botli  the  Clizia  and  the  Mandragola  in  his  mind,  and 
have  designed  a  pithy  combination  of  their  most  striking  elements. 

«  See  especially  the  scenes  between  Caterina  and  Margherita  (act  i. 
3;  act  ii.  i)  where  the  advantages  of  taking  a  lover  and  of  choosing  a 
friar  for  this  purpose  are  discussed.  They  abound  in  gros  mots,  as 
thus: 

Cat.  Odi,  in  quanto  a  cotesta  parte  tu  di'  la  verita;  ma  quello  odore, 
ch'  egli  hanno  poi  di  salvaggiume,  non  ch'  altro  mi  stomaca  a  pensarlo. 

Marg.  Eh!  eh!  poveretta  voi!  i  frati,  eh  ?  Non  si  trova  generazione 
piu  abile  ai  servigi  delle  donne.  Voi  dovete  forse  avere  a  pigliarvi 
piacere  col  naso  ?  etc. 


160  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Alberigo  is  a  vulgar  libertine,  j)rovided_  with  pious 
phrases  to  cloak  his  vicious  purpose,  but  Casting- off 
the  mask  when  he  has  gained  his  object,  well  knowing 
from  past  experience  that  the  appetites  of  the  woman 
he  seduces  will  secure  his  footing  in  her  husband's 
home.1  Margherita  revels  in  the  corruption  she  has 
aided.  She  delights  in  sin  for  its  own  sake,  extracts 
handfuls  of  coppers  from  the  friar,  and  counts  on 
profiting  by  the  secret  of  her  mistress.  Her  speech 
and  action  display  the  animal  appetites  and  gross 
phraseology  of  the  proletariate,  degraded  by  city  vices 
and  hardened  to  the  spectacle  of  clerical  hypocrisy.2 
One  of  her  exclamations:  "I  frati,  ah!  son  piu  viziati 
che  '1  fistolo!"  taken  in  conjunction  with  her  argument 
to  Caterina:  "I  frati,  eh?  Non  si  trova  generazione 
piu  abile  ai  servigi  delle  donne!"  points  the  satire 
intended  by  the  playwright.  Yet  neither  Caterina  nor 
Amerigo  yields  a  point  of  baseness  to  these  servile 
agents.  Plebeian  coarseness  is  stamped  alike  upon 
their  language  and  their  desires.  They  have  no 
delicacy  of  feeling,  no  redeeming  passion,  no  self- 
respect.  They  speak  of  things  unmentionable  with  a 
crudity  that  makes  one  shudder,  and  abuse  each  other 
in  sarcasms  borrowed  from  the  rhetoric  of  the  streets.3 
To  a  refined  taste  the  calculations  of  Caterina  are  no 

>  Compare  his  speech  to  Caterina  (act  ii.  5)  with  his  dialogue  with 
Margherita  (act  iii.  4)  and  his  final  discourse  on  charity  and  repentance 
(act  iii.  6).  The  irony  of  these  words,  "Certamente,  Amerigo,  che  voi 
potete  vantarvi  d'  aver  la  piu  saggia  e  casta  giovane,  non  vo'  dir  di 
Fiorenza  ma  di  tutto  '1  mondo,"  pronounced  before  Caterina  a  couple 
of  hours  after  her  seduction,  fixes  the  measure  of  Machiavelli's  cynicism. 

*  The  quite  unquotable  but  characteristic  monologue  which  opens 
the  third  act  is  an  epitome  of  Margherita's  character. 

•  Act  iii.  5. 


THE    CLIZIA.  !6i 

less  obnoxious  and  are  far  less  funny  than  the  rogueries 
of  the  friar. 

This  comedy  of  Fra  Alberigo  is  a  literal  transcript 
from  a  cynical  Novella,  dramatized  and  put  upon  the 
stage  to  amuse  an  audience  familiar  with  such  argu- 
ments by  their  perusal  of  Sacchetti  and  Boccaccio. 
Its  freedom  from  Latinizing  conventionality  renders  it 
a  striking  example  of  the  influence  exercised  by  the 
Novellieri  over  the  theater.  The  same  may  be  said 
about  both  the  Clizia  and  the  Mandragola,  though  the 
former  owes  a  portion  of  its  structure  to  the  Casino,  of 
Plautus.1  The  Clizia  is  a  finished  picture  of  Floren- 
tine home-life.  Nicomaco  and  Sofronia  are  an  elderly 
couple,  who  have  educated  a  beautiful  girl,  Clizia,  from 
childhood  in  their  house.  At  the  moment  when  the 
play  opens,  both  Nicomaco  and  his  son,  Cleandro, 
are  in  love  with  Clizia.  Nicomaco  has  determined-  to 
marry  her  to  one  of  his  servants,  Pirro,  having  pre- 
viously ascertained  that  the  dissolute  groom  will  not 
object  to  sharing  his  wife  with  his  master.  Sofronia's 
family  pride  opposes  the  marriage  of  her  son  and  heir 
with  Clizia ;  but  she  is  aware  of  her  husband's  schemes, 
and  seeks  to  frustrate  them  by  giving  the  girl  to  an 
honest  bailiff,  Eustachio.  In  the  contest  that  ensues, 
Nicomaco  gains  the  victory.  It  is  settled  that  Clizia 
is  to  be  wedded  to  Pirro,  and  on  the  night  of  the 
marriage  Nicomaco  makes  his  way  into  the  bridal 

i  From  an  allusion  in  act  ii.  sc.  3,  it  is  clear  that  the  Clizia  was  com- 
posed after  the  Mandragola,  If  we  assign  the  latter  comedy  to  a  date 
later  than  1512,  the  year  of  Machiavelli's  disgrace,  which  seems  implied 
in  its  prologue,  the  Clizia  must  be  reckoned  among  the  ripest  products  of 
his  leisure.  The  author  hints  that  both  of  these  comedies  were  suggested 
to  him  by  facts  that  had  come  under  his  notice  in  Florentine  society. 


1 62  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

chamber.  But  here  Sofronia  proves  more  than  a 
match  for  her  lord  and  master.  Helped  by  Cleandro, 
she  substitutes  for  Clizia  a  young  man-servant  disguised 
as  a  woman,  who  gives  Nicomaco  a  warm  reception, 
beats  him  within  an  inch  of  his  life,  and  exposes  him 
to  the  ridicule  of  the  household.1  Sofronia  triumphs 
over  her  ashamed  and  miserable  husband,  who  now 
consents  to  Clizia's  marriage  with  Eustachio.  But  at 
this  juncture  the  long-lost  father  of  the  heroine  appears 
like  a  deus  ex  machina.  He  turns  out  to  be  a  rich 
Neapolitan  gentleman.  There  remains  no  obstacle  to 
Cleandro's  happiness,  and  the  curtain  falls  upon  a 
marriage  in  prospect  between  the  hero  and  the  heroine. 
The  weakness  of  the  play,  considered  as  a  work  of  art, 
is  the  mechanical  solution  of  the  plot.  Its  strength  and  } 
beauty  are  the  masterly  delineation  of  a  family  interior.^/ 
The  dramatis  persona  are  vigorously  sketched  and 
act  throughout  consistently.  Nothing  can  be  finer 
than  the  portrait  of  a  sober  Florentine  merchant, 
regular  in 'his  pursuits,  punctual  in  the  performance  of 
his  duties,  exact  in  household  discipline  and  watchful 
over  his  son's  education,  whose  dignified  severity  of 
conduct  has  yielded  to  the  lunacies  of  an  immoderate 
passion.2  For  the  time  being  Nicomaco  forgets  his 
old  associates,  abandons  his  business,  and  consorts 

i  The  Clizia  furnished  Dolce  with  the  motive  of  his  Ragazzo  ("  II 
Ragazzo,  comedia  di  M.  Lodovico  Dolce.  Per  Curtio  de  Navb  e  fratelli 
al  Leone,  MDXLI.").  An  old  man  and  his  son  love  the  same  girl.  A 
parasite  promises  to  get  the  girl  for  the  old  man,  but  substitutes  a  page 
dressed  up  like  a  woman,  while  the  son  sleeps  with  the  real  girl.  Read- 
ers of  Ben  Jonson  will  be  reminded  of  Epiccene.  But  in  Dolce's  Ra- 
gazzo the  situation  is  made  to  suggest  impurity  and  lacks  rare  Ben's 
gigantic  humor. 

s  See  Sofronia's  soliloquy,  act.  ii.  sc.  4.. 


A    FLORENTINE   HOUSEHOLD.  163  \ 

with  youthful  libertines  in  taverns.  His  appetite7  so 
blinds  him  that  he  devises  the  odious  scheme  I  have 
described,  in  order  to  gratify  a  senile  whim.1  The 
lifelong  fabric  of  honesty  and  honor  breaks  down  in 
him;  and  it  is  only  when  lessoned  by  the  punishment 
inflicted  on  him  by  his  wife  and  son,  that  he  returns  to 
his  old  self  and  sees  the  vileness  of  the  situation  his 
folly  has  created.  Sofronia  is  a  notable  housewife, 
rude  but  respectable.  The  good  understanding  be- 
tween her  and  her  handsome  son,  Cleandro,  whom  she 
loves  affectionately,  but  whom  she  will  not  indulge  in 
his  caprice  for  Clizia,  is  one  of  the  best  traits  furnished 
by  Italian  comedy.  Cleandro  himself  has  less  than 
usual  of  the  selfishness  and  sensuality  which  degrade 
the  Florentine  primo  amoroso.  There  is  even  some- 
thing of  enthusiasm  in  his  passion  for  Clizia — a  germ 
of  sentiment  which  would  have  blossomed  into 
romance  under  the  more  genial  treatment  of  our 
drama.2  Morally  speaking,  what  is  odious  in  this 
comedy  is  the  willingness  of  every  one  to  sacrifice 
Clizia.  Even  Cleandro  says  of  her:  "  lo  per  me  la 
torrei  per  moglie,  per  arnica,  e  in  tutti  quei  modi,  che 
io  la  potessi  avere."  Nicomaco,  when  he  has  failed  in 

1  Cleandro  understands  the  faint  shadow  of  scruple  that  suggested 
this  scheme:  "  perche  tentare  d'  averla  prima  che  maritata,  gli  debbe 
parere  cosa  impia  e  brutta"  (act  i.  sc.  i).     This  sentence  is  extremely 
characteristic  of  Italian  feeling. 

2  His  observations  on  his  father,  are,  however,  marked  by  more  than 
ordinary  coarseness.    "  Come  non  ti  vergogni  tu  ad  avere  ordinato,  che 
si  delicato  viso  sia  da  si  fetida  bocca  scombavato,  si  delicate  carni  da  si 
tremanti  mani,  da  si  grinze  e  puzzolenti  membra  tocche  ? "    Then  he 
mingles  fears  about  Nicomaco's  property  with  a  lover's  lamentations. 
"  Tu  non  mi  potevi  far  la  maggiore  ingiuria,  avendomi  con  questo  colpo 
tolto  ad  un  tratto  e  1*  amata  e  la  roba;  perche  Nicomaco,  se  questo  amor 
dura,  e  per  lasciare  delle  sue  sustanze  piu  a  Pirro  che  a  me  "  (act  iv. 
sc.  i). 


1 64  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

his  plot  to  secure  the  girl,  thinks  only  of  his  own 
shame,  and.  takes  no  account  of  the  risk  to  which  he 
has  exposed  her.  Sofronia  is  merely  anxious  to  get 
her  decently  established  beyond  her  husband's  reach. 

Only  long  extracts  could  do  justice  to  the  sar- 
casm and  irony  with  which  the  dialogue  is  seasoned. 
Still  a  few  points  may  be  selected.1  Sofronia  is  ra- 
ting Nicomaco  for  his  unseasonable  dissipation.  He 
answers:  "  Ah,  moglie  mia,  non  mi  dire  tanti  mali  a  un 
tratto !  Serba  qualche  cosa  a  domane."  Eustachio,  in 
view  of  taking  Clizia  for  his  wife,  reflects:  "  In  questa 
terra  chi  ha  bella  moglie  non  pu6  essere  povero,  e  del 
fuoco  e  della  moglie  si  puo  essere  liberate  con  ognuno, 
perche  quanto  pill  ne  dai,  piu  te  ne  rimane."  When 
Pirro  demurs  to  Nicomaco's  proposals,  on  the  score 
that  he  will  make  enemies  of  Sofronia  and  Cleandro,  his 
master  answers:  "Che  importa  a  te?  Sta'  ben  con 
Cristo  e  fatti  beffe  de'  santi."  A  little  lower  down 
Nicomaco  trusts  the  decision  of  Clizia's  husband  to 
lot: 

Pirro,    Se  la  sorte  me  venisse  contro  ? 
Nicom.  lo  ho  speranza  in  Dio,  che  la  non  verra. 
Pirro.    O  vecchio  impazzato!    Vuole  che  Dio  tenga  le  mani  a  queste 
sue  disonesta. 

Nor  can  criticism  express  the  comic  humor  of  the 
scenes,  especially  of  those  in  which  Nicomaco  describes 
the  hours  of  agony  he  Spent  in  Siro's  bed,  and  after- 
wards capitulates  at  discretion  to  Sofronia.2  In  spite 
of  what  is  disagreeable  in  the  argument  and  obscene  in 
the  catastrophe,  the  Clizia  leaves  a  wholesorrfer  im- 
pression on  the  mind  than  is  common  with  Florentine 
1  Act  iii.  scs.  4,  5,  6.  J  Act  v.  scs.  2  and  3. 


THE   MANDRAGOLA.  165 

comedies.     It   has   something   of  Ariosto's   bonhomie, 
elsewhere  unknown  in  Machiavelli. 

Meanwhile  the  Mandragola  is  claiming  our  atten- 
tion. In  thaf~comedy,  Machiavelli  put  forth  all  his 
strength.  Sinister  and  repulsive  as  it  may  be  to 
modern  tastes,  its  power  is  indubitable.  More  than 
any  plays  of  which  mention  has  hitherto  been  made, 
more  even  that  Ariosto's  Lena  and  Negromante,  it 
detaches  itself  from  Latin  precedents  and  offers  an 
uTTsop1rrsfica.tecl  view  of  Florentine  life  from  its  author's  ^ 
terrible  point  of  contemplation. 

In  order  to  appreciate  the  Mandragola ,  it  is  neces-' 
sary  to  know  the  plot.  After  spending  his  early  man- 
hood in  Paris,  Callimaco  returns  to  Florence,  bent  on 
making  the  beautiful  Lucrezia  his  mistress.  He  has 
only  heard  of  her  divine  charms;  but  the  bare  report 
inflames  his  imagination,  disturbs  his  sleep,  and  so 
distracts  him  that  he  feels  forced  "  to  attempt  some 
bold  stroke,  be  it  grave,  dangerous,  ruinous,  dishonor- 
able; death  itself  would  be  better  than  the  life  I  lead." 
Lucrezia  is  the  faithful  and  obedient  wife  of  Nicia,  a 
doctor  of  laws,  whose  one  wish  in  life  is  to  get  a  son. 
The  extreme  gullibility  of  Nicia  and  his  desire  for  an 
heir  are  the  motives  upon  which  Callimaco  relies  to 
work  his  schemes.  He  finds  a  parasite,  Ligurio,  ready 
to  assist  him.  Ligurio  is  a  friend  of  Nicia's  family, 
well  acquainted  with  the  persons,  and  so  utterly  de- 
praved that  he  would  sell  his  soul  for  a  good  dinner. 
He  advises  Callimaco  to  play  the  part  of  a  physician 
who. has  studied  the  last  secrets  of  his  art  in  Paris, 
introduces  him  in  this  capacity  to  Nicia,  and  suggests 
that  by  his  help  the  desired  result  may  be  obtained 


1 66  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

without  the  disagreeable  necesssity  of  leaving  Florence 
for  the  baths  of  San  Filippo.  In  their  first  interview 
Callimaco  explains  that  a  potion  of  mandragora  ad- 
ministered to  Lucrezia  will  remove  her  sterility,  but 
that  it  has  fatal  consequences  to  the  husband.  He 
must  perish  unless  he  first  substitutes  another  man, 
whose  death  will  extinguish  the  poison  and  leave 
Lucrezia  free  to  be  the  mother  of  a  future  family. 
Nicia  revolts  against  this  odious  project,  which  makes 
him  the  destroyer  of  his  own  honor  and  a  murderer. 
But  Callimaco  assures  him  that  royal  persons  and 
great  nobles  of  France  have  adopted  this  method  with 
success.  The  argument  has  its  due  weight:  "  I  am 
satisfied,"  says  Nicia,  "  since  you  tell  me  that  a  king 
and  princes  have  done  the  like."  But  the  difficulty 
remains  of  persuading  Lucrezia.  Ligurio  answers: 
that  is  simple  enough;  let  us  work  upon  her  through 
her  confessor  and  her  mother.  "  You,  I,  our  money, 
our  badness,  and  the  badness  of  those  priests  will  settle 
the  confessor;  and  I  know  that,  when  the  matter  is 
explained,  we  shall  have  her  mother  on  our  side." 
Thus  we  are  introduced  to  Fra  Timoteo,  the  chief 
agent  of  corruption.  The  monk,  in  a  first  interview, 
does  not  conceal  his  readiness  to  procure  abortion  and 
cover  infanticide.  For  a  consideration,  he  agrees  to 
convince  Lucrezia  that  the  plot  is  for  her  good.  He 
first  demonstrates  the  utility  of  Callimaco's  method  to 
the  mother  Sostrata,  and  then  by  her  help  persuades 
Lucrezia  that  adultery  and  murder  are  not  only  venial, 
but  commendable  with  so  fair  an  end  in  view.  His 
sophistries  anticipate  the  darkest  casuistry  of  Escobar. 
Lucrezia,  with  a  woman's  good  sense,  fastens  on  the 


THE   PLOT.  167 

brutal  and  unnatural  loathsomeness  of  the  proposed 
plan :  "  Ma  di  tutte  le  cose  che  si  sono  tentate,  questa 
mi  pare  la  pili  strana;  avere  a  sottomettere  il  corpo 
mio  a  questo  vituperio,  et  essere  cagione  che  un  uomo 
muoia  per  vituperarmi :  che  io  non  crederei,  se  io  fussi 
sola  rimasa  nel  mondo,  e  da  me  avesse  a  risurgere 
T  umana  natura,  che  mi  fusse  simile  partito  concesso." 
Timoteo  replies :  "  Qui  e  un  bene  certo,  che  voi 
ingraviderete,  acquisterete  un'  anima  a  messer  Domene- 
dio.  II  male  incerto  e,  che  colui  che  giacera  dopo 
la  pozione  con  voi,  si  muoia ;  ma  e'  si  truova  anche  di 
quelli  che  non  muoiono.  Ma  perche  la  cosa  e  dubbia, 
pero  e  bene  che  messer  Nicia  non  incorra  in  quel 
pericolo.  Quanto  all'  atto  che  sia  peccato,  questo  e 
una  favola :  perche  la  volonta  e  quella  che  pecca,  non  il 
corpo ;  e  la  cagione  del  peccato  e  dispiacere  al  marito : 
e  voi  gli  compiacete ;  pigliarne  piacere :  e  voi  ne  avete 
dispiacere,"  etc.  Sostrata,  accustomed  to  follow  her 
confessor's  orders,  and  not  burdened  with  a  conscience, 
clinches  this  reasoning :  "  Di  che  hai  tu  paura,  mocci- 
cona?  E  c'  e  cinquanta  dame  in  questa  terra  che  ne 
alzarebbero  le  mani  al  cielo."  Lucrezia  gives  way 
unwillingly:  "  Io  son  contenta;  ma  non  credo  mai  esser 
viva  domattina."  Timoteo  comforts  her  with  a  final 
touch  of  monkish  irony :  "  Non  dubitare,  figliuola  mia, 
io  preghero  Dio  per  te ;  io  diro  1'orazione  dell'  Angiolo 
Raffaello  che  t'  accompagni.  Andate  in  buon'  ora,  e 
preparatevi  a  questo  misterio,  che  si  fa  sera."  What 
follows  is  the  mere  working  of  the  plot,  whereby 
Ligurio  and  Timoteo  contrive  to  introduce  Callimaco 
as  the  necessary  victim  into  Lucrezia's  bed-chamber. 
The  silly  Nicia  plays  the  part  of  pander  to  his  own 


1 68  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

shame;  and  when  Lucrezia  discovers  the  scheme  by 
which  her  lover  has  attained  his  ends,  she  exclaims : 
"  Poi  che  1'  astuzia  tua  e  la  sciochezza  del  mio  marito,  la 
semplicita  di  mia  madre  e  la  tristizia  del  mio  confessore, 
m'  hanno  condotta  a  far  quello  che  mai  per  me 
medesima  avrei  fatto,  io  voglio  giudicare  che  e' 
venga  da  una  celeste  disposizione,  che  abbia  voluto 
cosl.  Pero  io  ti  prendo  per  signore,  padrone  e  guida." 
It  must  be  remarked  that  Lucrezia  omits  from  her 
reckoning  the  weakness  which  led  her  to  consent. 

My  excuse  for "  analyzing  a  comedy  so  indecent  as 
the  Mandragola,  is  the  importance  it  has,  not  only  as 
a  product  of  Machiavelli's  genius,  but  also  as  an  illus-— 
tration  of  contemporary  modes  of  thought  and  feeling. 
In  all  points  this  play  is  worthy  of  the  author  of  the 
Principe.  The  Mandragola  is  a  microcosm  of  society 
as  Machiavelli  conceived  it,  and  as  it  needs  must  be-  to 
justify  his  own  philosophy.  Jt  is  a  study  of  stupidity 
and  baseness  acted  on  by  roguery.  Credulity  and 
appetite  supply  the  fulcrum  needed  by  unscrupulous 
intelligence.  The  lover,  aided  by  the  husband's  folly, 
rtheT parasite's  profligacy,  the  mother's  familiarity  with 
sin,  the  confessor's  avarice,  the  wife's  want  of  self- 
respect,  achieves  the  triumph  of  making  Nicia  lead 
him  naked  to  Lucrezia's  chamber.  Moving  in  the 
region  of  his  fancy,  the  poet  adds  Quod  erat  demon- 
strandum to  his  theorem  of  vileness  and  gross  folly 
used  for  selfish  ends  by  craft.  But  we  who  read  it, 
rise  from  the  perusal  with  the  certainty  that  it  was 
only  the  corruption  of  the  age  which  rendered  such  a 
libel  upon  human  nature  plausible — only  the  author's 
perverse  and  shallow  view  of  life  which  sustained  him 


MACHIAVELLrS   PHILOSOPHY   OF  LIFE.  169 

in  this  reading  of  a  problem  he  had  failed  to  under- 
stand. Viewed  as  a  critique  upon  life,  the  Mandra- 
gola  is  feeble,  because  the  premises  are  false;  and 
these  same  false  premises  regarding  the  main  forces 
of  society,  render  the  logic  of  the  Principe  inconse-  *K. 
quent.  Men  are  not  such  fools  as  Nicia  or  such  )o 
catspaws  as  Ligurio  and  Timoteo.  Women  are  not 
such  compliant  instruments  as  Sostrata  and  Lucrezia. 
Human  nature  is  not  that  tissue  of  disgusting  mean- 
nesses and  vices,  by  which  Callimaco  succeeds.  Here 
lay  Machiavelli's  fallacy.  He  dreamed  of  action  as 
the  triumph  of  astuteness  over  folly.  Virtue  with  him 
meant  the  management  of  immorality  by  bold  intelli- 
gence. But  while,  on  the  one  hand,  he  exaggerated 
the  stupidity  of  dupes,  on  the  other  he  underestimated 
the  resistance  which  strongly-rooted  moral  instincts  < 
offer  to  audacious  villainy.  He  left  goodness  out  of 
his  account.  Therefore,  though  his  reasoning,  whether 
we  examine  the  Mandragola  or  the  Principe,  seems 
irrefragable  on  the  premises  from  which  he  starts,  it  is 
an  unconvincing  chain  of  sophisms.  The  world  is  not- 
wholly  bad;  but  in  order  to  justify  Machiavelli's  con- 
clusions, we  have  to  assume  that  its  essential  forces 
are  corrupt. 

If  we  turn  from  the  Mandragola  to  the  society  of 
which  it  is  a  study,  and  which  complacently  accepted 
it  as  an  agreeable  work  of  art,  we  are  filled  with  a 
sense  of  surprise  bordering  on  horror.  What  must 
the  people  among  whom  Machiavelli  lived,  have  been, 
to  justify  his  delineation  of  a  ruffian  so  vicious  as 
Ligurio,  a  confessor  so  lost  to  sense  of  duty  as 
Timoteo,  a  mother  who  scruples  not  to  prostitute  her 


170  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

daughter  to  the  first  comer,  a  lover  so  depraved  as 
Callimaco,  a  wife  so  devoid  of  womanly  feeling  as 
Lucrezia?  On  first  reflection,  we  are  inclined  to  be- 
lieve that  the  poet  in  this  comedy  was  venting  Swiftian 
indignation  on  the  human  nature  which  he  miscon- 
ceived and  loathed.  The  very  name  Lucrezia  seems 
chosen  in  irony — as  though  to  hint  that  Rome's  first 
martyr  would  have  failed,  if  Tarquin  had  but  used  her 
mother  and  her  priest  to  tame  her.  Yek-on  a.,sec,ond 
reading,  the  Mandragola  reveals  no  scorn  or  angen 
It  is  a  piece  of  scientific  anatomy,  a  demonstration  of 
disease,  executed  without  subjective  feeling.  The 
argument  is  so  powerfully  developed,  with  such  sim- 
plicity of  language,  such  consistency  of  character,  such 
cold  analysis  of  motives,  that  we  cannot  doubt  the 
verisimilitude  of  the  picture.  No  one,  at  the  date  of 
its  appearance,  resented  it.  Florentine  audiences  de- 
lighted in  its  comic  flavor.  Leo  X.  witnessed  it  with 
approval.  His  hatred  of  the  monks  found  satisfaction 
in  Timoteo.  Society,  far  from  rising  in  revolt  against 
the  poet  who  exposed  its  infamy  with  a  pen  of  poisoned 
steel,  thanked  the  man  of  genius  for  rendering  vice 
amusing.  Of  satire  or  of  moral  purpose  there  is  none 
in  the  Mandragola.  Machiavelli  depicted  human  na- 
ture just  as  he  had  learned  to  know  it.  The  sinister 
fruits  of  his  studies  made  contemporaries  laugh. 

The  Mandragola  \vas  the  work  of  an  unhappy 
man.  JThe  prologue  offers  a  curious  mixture  of 
haughtiness  and  fawning,  only  comparable  to  the 
dedication  of  the  Principe  and  the  letter  to  Vettori.1 

i  See  Age  of  the  Despots,  pp.  315-319.  Of  the  two  strains  of  char- 
acter so  ill-blent  in  Machiavelli,  the  Mandragola  represents  the  vulgar, 


MACHIAVELLPS   CIRCUMSTANCES.  171 

Ajsense  of  his  own  intellectual  greatness  is  combined 
with  an  uneasy  feeling  of  failure : 

Non  e  componitor  di  molta  fama. 

As  an  apology  for  his  application  to  trivialities,  he 
pleads  wretchedness  and  ennui: 

E  se  questa  materia  non  e  degna, 

Per  esser  piu  leggieri 

D'  un  uom  che  voglia  parer  saggio  e  grave, 

Scusatelo  con  questo,  che  s'  ingegna 

Con  questi  vani  pensieri 

Fare  el  suo  tristo  tempo  piu  soave; 

Perch&  altrove  non  ave 

Dove  voltare  el  viso; 

Che  gli  e  stato  interciso 

Mostrar  con  altre  imprese  altra  virtue, 

Non  sendo  premio  alle  fatiche  sue. 

These  verses,  indifferent  as  poetry,  are  poignant  for 
their  revelation  of  a  disappointed  life.  Left  without 
occupation,  unable  to  display  his  powers  upon  a  worthy 
platform,  he  casts  the  pearls  of  his  philosophy  before 
the  pleasure-seeking  swine.  The  sense  of  this  degra- 
dation stings  him  and  he  turns  upon  society  with 
threats.  Let  them  not  attempt  to  browbeat  or  inti- 
midate him : 

Che  sa  dir  male  anch'  egli, 

E  come  questa  fu  la  sua  prim'  arte: 

E  come  in  ogni  parte 

Del  mondo,  ove  il  si  suona, 

Non  istima  persona, 

Ancor  che  faccia  el  sergiere  a  colui 

Che  pub  portar  miglior  mantel  di  lui. 

Throughout  this  prologue  we  hear  the  growl  of  a 
wounded  lion,  helpless  in  his  lair,  yet  conscious  that 

and  the  Principe  the  noble.  The  one  corresponds  to  his  days  at  Casciano, 
the  other  to  his  studious  evenings. 


172  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

he   still   has   strength  to  rend  the  fools   and  knaves 
around  him. 

Aretino.  completed  the  disengagement  of  Italian 
from  Latin  comedy.  Ignoring  the  principles  established 
by  the  Plautine  mannerists,  he  liberated  the  elements 
of  satire  and  of  realism  held  in  bondage  by  their  rules. 
His  reasoning  was  unanswerable.  Why  should  he 
attend  to  the  unities,  or  be  careful  to  send  the  same 
person  no  more  than  five  times  on  the  stage  in  one 
piece?  His  people  shall  come  and  go  as  they  think 
fit,  or  as  the  argument  requires.1  Why  should  he  make 
Romans  ape  the  style  of  Athens  ?  His  Romans  shall 
be  painted  from  life;  his  servants  shall  talk  and  act 
like  Italian  varlets,  not  mimicking  the  ways  of  Geta  or 
Davus.2  Why  should  he  shackle  his  style  with  prece- 
dents from  Petrarch  and  Boccaccio  ?  He  will  seek  the 
fittest  words,  the  aptest  phrases,  the  most  biting  re 
partees  from  ordinary  language.3  Why  condescend 
to  imitation,  when  his  mother  wit  supplies  him  with 
material,  and  the  world  of  men  lies  open  like  a  book 
before  his  eyes4?  Why  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  the 
pedants,  who  mistake  their  knowledge  of  grammar  for 

>  "Se  voi  vedessi  uscire  i  personaggi  piu  di  cinque  volte  in  scena,  non 
ve  ne  ridete,  perche  le  catene  che  tengono  i  molini  sul  fiume,  non  terreb- 
beno  i  pazzi  d'  oggidi  "  (Prologue  to  the  Cortigiand). 

»  "  Non  vi  maravigliate  se  lo  stil  comico  non  s'  osserva  con  1*  ordine 
che  si  richiede,  perche  si  vive  d'  un'  altra  maniera  a  Roma  che  non  si 
vivea  in  Atene  "  (Ibid.}.  . 

3  "  lo  non  mi  son  tolto  dagH  andari  del  Petrarca  e  del  Boccaccio  per 
ignoranza,  che  pur  so  cib  che  essi  sono;  ma  per  non  perdere  il  tempo,  la 
pazienza  e  il  nome  nella  pazzia  di  volermi  trasformare  in  loro  "  (Prologue 
to  the  Orazia). 

4  "  Piu  pro  fa  il  pane  asciutto  in  casa  propria  che  1'  accompagnato 
con  molte  vivande  su  altrui  tavola.     Imita  qua,  imita  la;  tutto  e  fava,  si 
pub  dire  alle  composizioni  dei  piu  .  .  .  di  chi  imita,  mi  faccio  beffe  .  '.  . 
possogiurare  d'  esser  sempre  me  stesso,  ed  altri  non  mai"  (Ibid.) 


ARETINO    AS   PLAYWRIGHT.  173 

genius,  and  whose  commentaries  are  an  insult  to  the 
poets  they  pretend  to  illustrate  ?  1 

Conscious  of  his  own  defective  education,  and 
judging  the  puristic  niceties  of  the  age  at  their  true 
value,  Aretino  thus  flung  the  glove  of  defiance  in  the 
face  of  a  learned  public.  It  was  a  bold  step ;  but  the 
adventurer  knew  what  he  was  doing.  The  originality 
of  his  Ars  Poctica  took  the  world  by  surprise.  His 
Italian  audience  delighted  in  the  sparkle  of  a  style 
that  gave  point  to  their  common  speech.  Had  Aretino 
been  a  writer  of  genius,  Italy  might  now  have  owed 
to  his  audacity  and  self-reliance  the  starting-point  of 
national  dramatic  art.2  He  was  on  the  right  path,  but 
he  lacked  the  skill  to  tread  it.  His  comedies,  loosely  put 
together,  with  no  constructive  vigor  in  their  plots  and 
no  grasp  of  psychology  in  their  characters,  are  a  series 
of  powerfully- written  scenes,  piquant  dialogues,  effec- 
tive situations,  rather  than  comedies  in  the  higher 
Aense  of  the  word.  We  must  not  look  for  Ariosto's 
/  lucid  order,  for  Machiavelli's  disposition  of  parts,  in 
these  vagaries  of  a  brilliant  talent  aiming  at  immediate 
success.  We  must  be  grateful  for  the  filibustering' 
bravado  which  made  him  dare  to  sketch  contemporary 
manners  from  the  life.  The  merit  of  these  comedies 
is  naturalness.  Such  affectation  of  antithesis  or 

1  "  Io  mi  rido  dei  pedanti,  i  quali  si  credono  che  la  dottrina  consiste 
nella  lingua  greca,  dando  tutta  la  riputatione  allo  in  bus  in  has  della 
grammatica  "  (Prologue  to  Orazid).    "  I  crocifissori  del  Petrarca,  i  quali 
gli  fanno  dir  cose  con  i  loro  comenti,  che  non  gliene  fariano  confessare 
fliece  tratti  di  corda.     E  bon  per  Dante  che  con  le  sue  diavolerie  fa  star 
le  bestie  in  dietro,  che  a  questa  ora  saria  in  croce  anch'  egli "  (Prologue 
to  Cortigiana). 

2  His  tragedy  Orasia  has  just  the  same  merits  of  boldness  and  dra- 
matic movement  in  parts,  the  same  defects  of  incoherence.     It  detaches 
itself  favorably  from  the  tragedies  of  the  pedants. 


174  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

labored  epigram  as  mars  their  style,  was  part  of 
Aretino's  self.  It  reveals  the  man,  and  is  not  weari- 
some like  the  conceits  of  the  pedantic  school.  What 
he  had  learned,  seen  or  heard  in  his  experience  of  the 
world — and  Aretino  saw,  heard  and  learned  the  worst 
of  the  society  in  which  he  lived — is  presented  with 
vigor.  The  power  to  express  is  never  shackled  by 
a  back-thought  of  reserve  or  delicacy.  Each  character 
stands  outlined  with  a  vividness  none  the  less  con- 
vincing because  the  study  lacks  depth.  What  Aretino 
cannot  supply,  is  the  nexus  between  these  striking 
passages,  the  linking  of  these  lively  portraits  into  a 
coherent  whole.  Machiavelli's  logic,  perverse  as  it 
may  be,  produces  by  its  stringent  application  a  more 
impressive  sesthetical  effect.  The  doctrine  of  style  for 
style's  sake,  derided  by  Aretino,  satisfies  at  least  our 
sense  of  harmony.  In  the  insolence  of  freedom  he 
spoils  the  form  of  his  plays  by  discussions,  sometimes 
dull,  sometimes  disgusting,  in  which  he  vents  his  spite 
or  airs  his  sycophancy  without  regard  for  the  exigencies 
of  his  subject.  Still,  in  spite  of  these  defects,  Aretino's 
plays  are  a  precious  mine  of  information  for  one  who 
desires  to  enter  into  direct  communication  with  the 
men  of  the  Renaissance. 

Aretino's  point  of  view  is  that  of  the  successful 
adventurer.  Unlike  Machiavelli,  he  has  no  sourness 
and  reveals  no  disappointment.  He  has  never  fallen 
from  the  high  estate  of  an  impersonal  ambition.  His 
report  of  human  depravity  is  neither  scientific  nor 
indignant.  He  appreciates  the  vices  of  the  world,  by 
comprehending  which,  as  means  to  ends,  he  has 
achieved  celebrity.  They  are  the  instruments  of  his 


ARETINO'S   POINT   OF    VIEW. 


'75 


advance  in  life,  the  sources  of  his  wealth,  the  wisdom 
he  professes.  Therefore,  while  he  satirizes,  he  treats 
them  with  complacence.  Evil  is  good  for  its  own  sake 
also  in  his  eyes.  Having  tasted  all  its  fruits,  he  revels 
in  recalling  his  sensations,  just  as  Casanova  took  pleas- 
ure in  recording  his  debaucheries.  His  knowledge  of 
society  is  that  of  an  upstart,  who  has  risen  from  the  low- 
est ranks  by  the  arts  of  the  bully,  flatterer  and  pander. 
We  never  forget  that  he  began  life  as  a  lackey,  and 
the  most  valuable  quality  of  his  comedies  is  that  they  de- 
pict the  great  world  from  the  standpoint  of  the  servants' 
hall.  Aretino  is  too  powerful  and  fashionable  to  be 
aware  of  this.  He  poses  as  the  sage  and  satirist.  But 
the  revelation  is  none  the  less  pungent  because  it  is 
made  unconsciously.  The  Court,  idealized  by  Casti- 
glione,  censured  by  Guarini,  inveighed  against  by  La 
Casa,  here  shows  its  inner  rottenness  for  our  inspection, 
at  the  pleasure  of  a  charlatan  who  thrives  on  this  pollu- 
tion. We  hear  how  the  valets  of  debauched  prelates, 
the  parasites  of  petty  nobles,  the  pimps  who  battened 
on  the  vices  of  the  rich,  the  flatterer  who  earned  his 
bread  by  calumny  and  lies,  viewed  this  world  of  fashion, 
how  they  discussed  it  among  themselves,  how  they 
utilized  its  corruption.  We  shake  hands  with  ruffians 
and  cut-throats,  enter  the  Roman  brothels  by  their 
back-door,  sit  down  in  their  kitchens,  and  become 
acquainted  with  the  secrets  of  their  trade.  It  may  be 
suggested  that  the  knowledge  supplied  by  Aretino,  if 
it  concerns  such  details,  is  neither  profitable  nor 
valuable.  No  one,  indeed,  who  is  not  specially  curious 
to  realize  the  manners  of  Renaissance  Italy,  should 
occupy  his  leisure  with  these  comedies. 


176  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

The  Cortigiana  is  a  parody  of  Castiglione's  Corte- 
giano.  A  Sienese  gentleman,  simple  and  provincial, 
the  lineal  descendant  of  Pulci's  Messer  Goro,  arrives 
in  Rome  to  make  his  fortune.1  He  is  bent  on  assum- 
ing the  fine  airs  of  the  Court,  and  hopes  to  become  at 
least  a  Cardinal  before  he  returns  home.  On  his  first 
arrival  Messer  Maco  falls  into  the  clutches  of  a  sharper, 
who  introduces  him  to  disreputable  society,  under 
color  of  teaching  him  the  art  of  courtiership.  The 
satire  of  the  piece  consists  m  showing  Rome  to  be  the 
school  of  profligacy  rather  than  of  gentle  customs.2 
Before  he  has  spent  more  than  a  few  days  in  the 
Eternal  City,  the  country  squire  learns  the  slang  of 
the  demi-monde  and  swaggers  among  courtesans  and 
rufHers.  Maestro  Andrea,  who  has  undertaken  his 
education,  lectures  him  upon  the  virtues  of  the  courtier 
in  a  scene  of  cynical  irony3:  "La  principal  cosa,  il 
cortigiano  vuol  sapere  bestemmiare,  vuole  essere 
giuocatore,  invidioso,  puttaniere,  eretico,  adulatore, 
maldicente,  sconoscente,  ignorante,  asino,  vuol  sapere 
frappare,  far  la  ninfa,  et  essere  agente  e  paziente."  Some 
of  these  qualities  are  understood  at  once  by  Messer 
Maco.  Concerning  others  he  asks  for  further  informa- 
tion :  "  Come  si  diventa  eretico  ?  questo  e  '1  caso. — 
Notate. — lo  nuoto  benissimo. — Quando  alcuno  vi  dice 
che  in  Corte  sia  bonta,  discrezione,  amore,  o  conoscenza, 
dite  no  '1  credo  .  .  .  .  4n  somma  a  chi  vi  dice  bene  de 
la  Corte,  dite :  tu  sei  un  bugiardo."  Again,  Messer 

i  "Egli  6  uno  di  quegli  animali  di  tanti  colon  che  il  vostro  avolo  com- 
perb  in  cambio  d1  un  papagallo  "  (act  i.  sc.  i). 

*  Its  most  tedious  episode  is  a  panegyric  of  Venice  at  the  expense  ot 
Rome  (act  iii.  sc.  7). 

3  Act  i.  sc.  22. 


THE    CORTIGIANA. 


177 


Maco  asks :  "  Come  si  dice  male  ?  "  The  answer  is 
prompt  and  characteristic  of  Aretino l :  "  Dicendo  il 
vero,  dicendo  il  vero."  What  Maestro  Andrea  teaches 
theoretically,  is  expounded  as  a  fact  of  bitter  experience 
by  Valerio  and  Flamminio,  the  gentlemen  in  waiting 
on  a  fool  of  fortune  named  Parabolano.2  These  men, 
admitted  to  the  secrets  of  a  noble  household,  know  its 
inner  sordidness,  and  reckon  on  the  vanity  and  passions 
of  their  patron.  A  still  lower  stage  in  the  scale  of 
debasement  is  revealed  by  the  conversations  of  the 
lackeys,  Rosso  and  Cappa,  who  discuss  the  foibles  of 
their  master  with  the  coarseness  of  the  stables.3  In 
so  far  as  the  Cortigiana  teaches  any  lesson,  it  is  con- 
tained in  the  humiliation  of  Parabolano.  His  vices 
have  made  him  the  slave  and  creature  of  foul-minded 
serving-men,  who  laugh  together  over  the  disgusting 
details  of  his  privacy,  while  they  flatter  him  to  his  face 
in  order  to  profit  by  his  frivolities.4  Aretino's  own 
experience  of  life  in  Rome  enabled  him  to  make  these 
pictures  of  the  servants'  hall  and  antechamber  pungent.5 
The  venom  engendered  by  years  of  servitude  and 
adulation  is  vented  in  his  criticism  of  the  Court  as 
censured  from  a  flunkey's  point  of  view.  Nor  is  he 
less  at  home  in  painting  the  pleasures  of  the  class  whom 
he  has  chosen  for  his  critics  of  polite  society.  Cappa's 
soliloquy  upon  the  paradise  of  the  tavern,  and  Rosso's 
pranks,  when  he  plays  the  gentleman  in  his  master's 

1  He  makes  the  same  point  in  the  prologue  to  La  Talenta: "  Chi  brama 
d'  acquistarsi  il  nome  del  piu  scellerato  uomo  che  viva,  dica  il  vero." 

2  Act  i.  sc.  9;  act  ii.  sc.  6;  act  ii.  sc.  10;  act  iii.  sc.  7. 

3  See  especially  act  i.  sc.  7.  4  Act  iv.  sc.  6. 

s  Notice  the  extraordinary  virulence  of  his  invective  against  the  ti- 
nello  or  common  room  of  servants  in  a  noble  household  (act  v.  sc.  15). 


178  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

fine  clothes,  owe  the  effect  of  humor  to  their  realistic 
verve.1  We  feel  them  to  be  reminiscences  of  fact. 
These  scenes  constitute  the  salt  of  the  comedy,  sup- 
ported by  vivid  sketches  of  town  characters — the  news- 
boy, the  fisherman  of  the  Tiber,  and  the  superannuated 
prostitute.2 

In  the  Cortigiana  it  was  Aretino's  object  to  destroy 
illusions  about  Court-life  by  describing  it  in  all  the  vile- 
ness  of  reality.3  The  Marescalco  is  a  study  of  the  same 
conditions  of  society,  with  less  malignity  and  far  more 
geniality  of  humor.4  A  rich  fool  has  been  recom- 
mended by  his  lord  and  master,  the  Duke  of  Mantua,  to 
take  a  wife.  He  loathes  matrimony,  and  shrinks  from 
spending  several  thousand  ducats  on  the  dower.  But  the 
parasites,  buffoons  and  henchmen  of  the  prince  per- 
suade and  bully  him  into  compliance.  He  is  finally 
married  to  a  page  dressed  as  a  woman,  and  his  relief 
at  discovering  the  sex  of  his  supposed  wife  forms  the 
climax  of  the  plot.  This  play  is  conducted  with  so 
much  spirit  that  we  may  not  be  wrong  in  supposing 
Shakspere  in  Twelfth  Night  and  Ben  Jonson  in 
Epiccene  to  have  owed  something  to  its  humor.  We 
look,  however,  in  vain  for  such  fine  creatures  of  the 
fancy  as  Sir  Toby  Belch,  or  for  a  catastrophe  so  over- 
whelming as  the  crescendo  of  noise  and  bustle  which 
subdue  the  obstinacy  of  Morose.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  two  companion  scenes  in  which  Marescalco's  nurse 
enlarges  on  the  luxuries  of  married  life,  while  Ambrogio 

1  Act  ii.  sc.  I;  act  i.  scs.  11-18. 

2  Act  i.  sc.  4;  act  i.  sc.  ii;  act  ii.  sc.  7. 
8  Act  ii.  sc.  6. 

«  Of  all  Aretino's  plays  the  Marescalco  is  the  simplest  and  the  mosl 
artistically  managed. 


THE    MARESCALCO    AND    TALANTA. 


I79 


describes  its  miseries,  are  executed  with  fine  sense  of 
comic  contrast.1 

In  the  Talanta  we  return  to  Roman  society.  This 
comedy  is  a  study  of  courtesan  life,  analyzed  with 
thorough  knowledge  of  its  details.  The  character  of 
Talanta,  who  plays  her  four  lovers  one  against  the 
uther,  extracting  presents  by  various  devices  from 
each  of  them,  displays  the  author's  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  his  subject.2  Talanta  on  the  stage  is  a 
worthy  pendant  to  Nanna  in  the  Ragionamenti.  But 
the  intrigue  is  confused,  tedious  and  improbable; 
and  after  reading  the  first  act,  we  have  already  seen 
the  best  of  Aretino's  invention.  The  same  may  be 
said  about  the  Ipocrita  and  the  Filosofo,  two  come- 
dies in  which  Aretino  attempted  to  portray  a  charlatan 
of  Tartufe's  type  and  a  student  helpless  in  his  wife's 
hands.  These  characters  are  not  ill  conceived,  but 
they  are  too  superficially  executed  to  bear  the  weight 
of  the  plot  laid  upon  them.  In  like  manner  the 
pedant  in  the  Marescalco  and  the  swashbuckler  in 
the  Talanta  are  rather  silhouettes  than  finished  por- 
traits. Though  well  sketched,  they  lack  substance. 
They  have  neither  the  lifelike  movement  of  Shak- 
spere's  minor  persons,  nor  the  impressive  mechanism 
of  Jonson's  humors.  Bobadil  and  Master  Holo- 
fernes,  though  caricatures,  move  in  a  higher  region  of 

i  Act  i.  sc.  6;  act  ii.  sc.  5. 

*  Talanta's  apology  for  her  rapacity  and  want  of  heart  (act  i.  sc.  i); 
the  description  of  her  by  her  lover  Orfinio,  who  sees  through  her  but 
cannot  escape  her  fascination  (act  i.  sc.  7);  the  critique  of  her  by  a 
sensible  man  (act  i.  sc.  12);  her  arts  to  bring  her  lover  back  to  his 
allegiance  and  wheedle  the  most  odious  concessions  (act.  i.  sc.  13);  her 
undisguised  marauding  (act  i.  sc.  14);  these  moments  in  the  evolution 
of  her  character  are  set  forth  with  the  decision  of  a  master's  style. 


l8o  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

the  comic  art.  The  characters  Aretino  could  imitate 
supremely  well,  were  a  page  like  Giannico  in  the 
Marescalco,  a  footman  like  Rosso  in  the  Cortigiana, 
or  a  woman  of  the  town  like  Talanta.  His  comedies 
are  never  wanting  in  bustle  and  variety  of  business; 
while  the  sarcasm  of  the  author,  flying  at  the  best- 
established  reputations,  sneering  at  the  most  fashion- 
able prejudices  of  society,  renders  them  effective  even 
now,  when  all  the  jealousies  he  flouted  have  long  been 
buried  in  oblivion.1 

Bibbiena's  Calandra  is  a  farce,  obscene  but  not 
malignant.  Ariosto's  comedies  are  studies  of  society 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  middle  class.  If  he  is  too 
indulgent  to  human  frailty,  too  tolerant  of  vice,  we 
never  miss  in  him  the  wisdom  of  a  genial  observer. 
Machiavelli's  Mandragola  casts  the  dry  light  of  the 
intellect  on  an  abyss  of  evil.  Nothing  but  the  bril- 
liance of  the  poet's  wit  reconciles  us  to  his  revelation  of 
perversity.  Aretino,  by  the  animation  of  his  sketches, 
by  his  prurient  delight  in  what  is  vile,  makes  us 
comprehend  that  even  the  Mandragola  was  pos- 
sible. Machiavelli  stands  outside  his  subject,  like 
f  Lucifer,  fallen  but  disdainful.  Aretino  is  the Belial 
~~wfio  acknowledges  corruption  for  his  own  domain. 
.  Ariosto  and  Machiavelli  are  artists  each  in  his  kind 
perfect.  Aretino  is  an  improwisatore,  clever  with  the 
pen  he  uses  like  a  burin. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  render  an  account  of  the 

1  The  Prologue  to  the  Cortigiana  passes  all  the  literary  celebrities 
of  Italy  in  review  with  a  ferocity  of  sarcasm  veiled  in  irony  that  must 
have  been  extremely  piquant.  And  take  this  equivocal  compliment  to 
Molza  from  the  Marescalco  (act  v.  sc.  3),  "  il  Molza  Mutinense,  che  ar- 
resta  con  la  sua  fistola  i  torrenti." 


COMEDIES,    NOT   COMEDY.  l8l 

/ 

comedies  produced  by  the  Italians  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  or  to  catalogue  their  authors.  A  computa- 
tion has  been  made  which  reckons  the  plays  known  to 
students  at  several  thousands.  In  spite  of  this  extra- 
ordinary richness  in  comic  literature,  Italy  cannot 
boast  of  a  great  comedy.  No  poet  arose  to  carry  the 
art  onward  from  the  point  already  reached  when 
Aretino  left  the  stage.  The  neglect  that  fell  on 
those  innumerable  comedies,  was  not  wholly  unde- 
served. It  is  true  that  their  scenes  suggested  brilliant 
episodes  to  French  and  English  playwrights  of  cele- 
brity. It  is  true  that  the  historian  of  manners  finds 
in  them  an  almost  inexhaustible  store  of  matter.  Still 
they  are  literary  lucubrations  rather  than  the  spon- 
taneous expression  of  a  vivid  nationality.  Nor  have 
they  the  subordinate  merit  of  dealing  in  a  scientific 
spirit  with  the  cardinal  vices  and  follies  of  society. 
We  miss  the  original  plots,  the  powerful  modeling  of 
character,  the  philosophical  insight  which  would  have 
reconciled  us  to  a  Commedia  erudita. 

When  we  examine  the  plays  of  Firenzuola,  Cecchi, 
Ambra,  Gelli,  II  Lasca,  Doni,  Dolce,  we  find  that  a 
hybrid  form  of  art  had  been  established  by  the  prac- 
tice of  the  earlier  playwrights.  This  hybrid  implied 
Plautus  and  Terence  as  a  necessary  basis.  It  adopted 
the  fusion  of  Latin  arguments  with  Italian  manners 
which  was  so  ably  realized  by  Ariosto  and  Machiavelli. 
It  allowed  something  for  the  farce  traditions  which 
the  Rozzi  made  fashionable  at  Rome.  It  assumed 
ingredients  from  the  Biirle  and  Novelle  of  the  market- 
place, reproduced  the  language  of  the  people,  and 
made  use  ot  current  scandals  to  give  piquancy  to  its 


l8a  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

conventional  plots.  But  notwithstanding  the  admixture 
of  so  many  modern  elements,  the  stereotyped  Latinism 
of  its  form  rendered  this  comedy  unnatural.  Ingenious 
contaminatio,  to  use  a  phrase  in  vogue  among  Roman 
critics,  was  always  more  apparent  than  creative  instinct. 
The  Commedia  erudita  presented  a  framework 
ready-made  to  the  playwright,  and  easily  accepted 
on  the  strength  of  usage  by  the  audience  he  sought  to 
entertain.  At  the  same  time  it  left  him  free,  within 
prescribed  limits,  to  represent  the  manners  of  contem- 
porary life.  The  main  object  of  a  great  drama,  "  to 
show  the  very  age  and  body  of  the  time  his  form  and 
pressure,"  is  thrust  into  the  second  rank ;  and  the  most 
valuable  portions  of  these  clever  works  of  skill  are 
their  episodes — such  scenes,  for  example,  as  those 
which  in  the  Aridosio  of  Lorenzino  de'  Medici  reveal 
the  dissoluteness  of  conventual  customs  in  a  scholastic 
rifacimento  of  the  Adclphi  and  the  Mostellaria.1 
Had  the  fusion  of  classical  and  modern  elements 
been  complete  as  in  the  Epiccene  of  Jonson,  or  had 
the  character-drawing  been  masterly  as  in  Moliere's 
Avare,  we  should  have  no  cause  for  complaint.  But 
these  are  just  the  qualities  of  success  missed  by  the 
Italian  playwrights.  Their  studies  from  nature  are 
comparatively  slight.  Having  exhibited  them  in  the 
presentation  of  the  subject  or  introduced  them  here 
and  there  by  way  of  interludes,  they  work  the  play  to 
its  conclusion  on  the  lines  of  Latinistic  convention.2 

1  Lorenzino  de'  Medici,  Daelli,  Milano,  1862. 

*  The  pseudo-classical  hybrid  I  have  attempted  to  describe  is  analo- 
gous in  its  fixity  of  outline  to  the  conventional  framework  of  the  Sacre 
Rappresentazioni,  which  allowed  a  playwright  the  same  subordinate 
liberty  of  action  and  saved  him  the  trouble  of  invention  to  a  like  extent. 


THE   LEARNED    COMEDY.  183 

Such  being  the  form  of  cinque  cento  comedy,  it 
follows  that  its  details  are  monotonous.  The  charac- 
ters are  invariably  drawn  from  the  ranks  of  the  rich 
burgher  classes;  and  if  we  may  trust  the  evidence 
furnished  by  the  playwrights,  the  morality  of  these 
classes  must  have  been  of  an  almost  inconceivable 
baseness.  We  survey  a  society  separated  from  the 
larger  interests  that  elevate  humanity,  without  public 
ambition  or  the  sense  of  national  greatness,  excluded 
from  the  career  of  arms,  dead  to  honor,  bent  upon 
sensual  enjoyment  and  petty  intrigues.  The  motive 
which  sustains  the  plot,  is  illicit  love;  but  in  its  pre- 
sentation there  is  no  romance,  nothing  to  cloak  the 
animalism  of  an  unchecked  instinct.  The  young  men 
who  play  the  part  of  primi  amorosi,  are  in  debt  or 
without  money..  It  is  their  object  to  repair  their  for- 
tunes by  a  rich  marriage,  to  secure  a  maintenance  from 
a  neighbor's  wife  they  have  seduced,  to  satisfy  the 
avarice  of  a  greedy  courtesan,  or  to  conceal  the 
results  of  an  intrigue  which  has  brought  their  mistress 
into  difficulties.  From  the  innumerable  scenes  devoted 
to  these  elegant  and  witty  scapegraces,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  glean  a  single  sentence  expressive  of  con- 
science, remorse,  sense  of  loyalty  or  generous  feeling. 
They  submit  to  the  most  odious  bargains  and  dis- 
reputable subterfuges,  sacrificing  the  honor  of  their 

It  may  here  be  noticed  that  the  Italians  in  general  adopted  stereotyped 
forms  for  dramatic  representation.  Harlequin,  Columbine,  and  Panta- 
loon, the  Bolognese  doctor,  the  Stenterello  of  Florence,  the  Meneghino 
of  Milan,  and  many  other  dramatic  types,  recognized  as  stationary,  yet 
admitting  of  infinite  variety  in  treatment  by  author  or  actor,  are  notable 
examples.  In  estimating  the  dramatic  genius  of  Italy  this  tendency  to 
move  within  defined  and  conventional  limits  of  art,  whether  popular  or 
literary,  must  never  be  forgotten. 


1 84  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY, 

families  or  the  good  fame  of  the  women  who  depend 
upon  them,  to  the  attainment  of  some  momentary 
self-indulgence.1  Without  respect  for  age,  they  ex- 
pend their  ingenuity  in  robbing  their  parents  and 
exposing  their  fathers  to  ridicule.2  Nor  is  it  possible 
to  feel  much  sympathy  for  the  elders,  who  are  so 
brutally  used.  The  old  man  of  these  comedies  is 
either  a  superannuated  libertine,  who  makes  himself 
ridiculous  by  his  intrigues  with  a  neighbor's  wife, 
or  a  parsimonious  tyrant,  or  else  an  indulgent  rake, 
who  acts  the  pander  for  his  good-for-nothing  rascal  of 
a  son.3  Mere  simpletons  like  Machiavelli's  Nicia,  or 
Aretino's  Messer  Maco,  furnish  another  type  of  irre- 
verent age,  unredeemed  by  the  comic  humor  of  Fal- 
staff  or  the  gigantic  lusts  of  Sir  Epicure  Mammon. 
Between  son  and  father  the  inevitable  servant  plays 
the  part  of  clever  rogue.  It  is  he  who  weaves  the 
meshes  of  the  intrigue  that  shall  cut  the  purse-strings 
of  the  stingy  parent,  blind  the  eyes  of  the  husband  to 
his  wife's  adultery,  or  cheat  the  creditor  of  his  dues. 
Our  sympathy  is  always  enlisted  on  the  side  of  the 
schemers;  and  however  base  their  tricks  may  be,  we 
are  invited  to  applaud  the  success  which  crowns  them. 

1  Cinthio's  conduct  towards  Emilia  in  the  Negromante  is  a  good 
instance. 

•  See  above,  p.  163,  note,  for  Cleandro  in  the  Mandragola;  and  com- 
pare Alamanno's  conversation  with  his  uncle  Lapo,  his  robbery  of  his 
mother's  money-box,  and  his  reflections  on  the  loss  he  should  sustain  by 
her  re-marriage,  in  Gelli's  La  Sporta  (act  iii.  5;  ii.  2).  Camillo's  allu- 
sions to  his  father's  folly  in  Gelli's  Errore  (act  iv.  2)  are  no  less  selfish 
and  heartless.  Alamanno's  plot  to  raise  a  dower  by  fraud  (La  Sporta,  iv. 
i)  may  be  compared  with  Fabio's  trick  upon  his  stepmother  in  Cecchi's 
Martello.  In  the  latter  his  father  takes  a  hand. 

3  Ghirigoro  in  Gelli's  Sporta,  Gherardo  in  Gelli's  Errore,  Girolamo 
in  Cecchi's  Martello,  It  is  needless  to  multiply  examples.  The  analy- 
ses of  Machiavelli's  comedies  will  suffice. 


ITS   FIXED    ELEMENTS.  185 

The  girls  are  worthy  of  their  lovers.  Corrupted  by 
nurses;  exposed  to  the  contaminating  influences  of  the 
convent;  courted  by  grooms  and  servants  in  their 
father's  household;  tampered  with  by  infamous  du- 
ennas; betrayed  by  their  own  mothers  or  intrusted 
by  their  fathers  to  notorious  prostitutes;  they  accept 
the  first  husband  proposed  to  them  by  their  parents, 
confident  in  the  hope  of  continuing  clandestine  in- 
trigues with  the  neighbor's  son  who  has  seduced 
them.1  The  wives  are  such  as  the  Novelle  paint  them, 
yielding  to  the  barest  impulses  of  wantonness,  and 
covering  their  debauchery  with  craft  that  raises  a 
laugh  against  the  husbands  they  have  cozened.  Such 
are  the  main  actors,  the  conventional  personages,  of 
the  domestic  comedy.  The  subordinate  characters 
consist  of  parasites  and  flatterers;  ignorant  pedants 
and  swaggering  bravi;  priests  who  ply  the  trade  of 
pimps;  astrologers  who  thrive  upon  the  folly  of  their 
clients;  doctors  who  conceal  births;  prostitutes  and 
their  attendant  bullies;  compliant  go-betweens  and  ra- 
pacious bawds;  pages,  street  urchins,  and  officers  of 
justice.  The  adulterous  intrigue  required  such  minor 
persons  as  instruments;  and  it  often  happens  that 
scenes  of  vivid  comic  humor,  dialogues  of  the  most 
brilliant  Tuscan  idiom,  are  suggested  by  the  inter- 
action of  these  puppets,  whose  wires  the  clever  valet 
and  the  primo  amoroso  pull. 

The  point  of  interest  for  contemporary  audiences 
was  the  burla — the  joke  played  off  by  a  wife  upon  her 

1  It  would  be  easy  to  illustrate  each  of  these  points  from  the  come- 
dies of  Ariosto,  Cecchi,  Machiavelli,  Lorenzino  de'  Medici;  to  which  the 
reader  may  be  referred  passim  for  proof. 


1 86  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

husband,  by  rogues  upon  a  simpleton,  by  a  son  upon 
his  father,  by  a  servant  on  his  master's  creditors,  by  a 
pupil  on  his  pedantic  tutor.  Accepting  the  conditions 
of  a  comedy  so  constructed,  and  eliminating  ethical 
considerations,  we  readily  admit  that  these  jokes  are 
infinitely  amusing.  The  scene  in  Gelli's  Sporta  where 
Ghirigoro  de'  Macci  receives  the  confidences  of  the 
youth  who  has  seduced  his  daughter,  under  the  impres- 
sion that  he  is  talking  about  his  money-box,  is  not 
unworthy  of  Moliere's  Avare.  Two  scenes  in  Gelli's 
Errore,  where  Gherardo  Amieri,  disguised  as  an  old 
woman,  is  tormented  by  a  street  urchin  whom  his  son 
has  sent  to  teaze  him,  and  afterwards  confronted  by 
his  angry  wife,  might  have  adorned  the  Merry  Wives 
of  Windsor?-  Cecchi's  comedies  in  like  manner  abound 
in  comical  absurdities,  involving  exquisitely  realistic 
pictures  of  Florentine  manners.2  For  the  student  of 
language,  no  less  than  for  the  student  of  Renaissance 
life,  they  are  invaluable.  But  the  similarity  of  form 
which  marks  the  comedies  of  the  cinque  cento,  renders 
it  impossible  to  do  justice  to  their  details  in  the  present 
work.  I  must  content  myself  with  the  foregoing 
sketch  of  their  structure  derived  from  the  perusal  of 
such  plays  as  were  accessible  in  print,  and  with  the 
further  observation  that  each  eminent  dramatist  devel- 
oped some  side  of  the  common  heritage  transmitted 
by  their  common  predecessors.  Thus  Firenzuola  con- 
tinued the  Latin  tradition  with  singular  tenacity,  adapt- 
ing classical  arguments  in  his  Lucidi  and  Trinur.ia  to 
modern  themes  with  the  same  inimitable  transparency 

i  Opere  di  Gio.  Battista  Gelli  (Milano,  1807),  vol.  iii. 

»  Commedie  di  Giovan  Maria  Cecchi,  2  vols.,  Lemonnier. 


GELLI,    CECCHI,    IL   LASCA.  T87 

of  style  he  had  displayed  in  his  rifacimento  of  the 
Golden  Ass.1  Gelli  adapted  the  Aulularia  in  his 
Sporta,  and  closely  followed  the  Clizia  in  his  Errore. 
The  devotion  professed  for  Machiavelli  by  this  play- 
wright, was  yielded  by  Cecchi  to  Ariosto;  and  thus 
we  notice  two  divergent  strains  of  tradition  within  the 
circle  of  Florentine  art.2  Cecchi  was  a  voluminous 
dramatic  writer.  Besides  his  comedies  in  sdrucciolo 
and  piano  verse,  he  composed  Sacre  Rappresentazioni 
and  plays  of  a  mixed  kind  derived  from  a  free  handling 
of  that  elder  form.3  While  Gelli  and  Cecchi  severally 
followed  the  example  of  Machiavelli  and  Ariosto,  II 
Lasca  attempted  to  free  the  Italian  drama  from  the 
fetters  of  erudite  convention.4  His  comedies  are  ex- 
ceedingly witty  versions  of  Novelle,  forming  dramatic 
pendants  to  his  narratives  in  that  style.  Yet  though 
he  strove  to  make  the  stage  a  mirror  of  contemporary 

1  Opere  di  Messer  Agnolo  Firenzuola  (Milano,  1802),  vol.  v. 

2  E  '1  divino  Ariosto  anco,  a  chi  cedono 
Greci,  Latini  e  Toscan,  tutti  i  comici. 

Prologue  to  1 Rivali. 

Ma  che  dirb  di  te,  spirito  illustre, 
Ariosto  gentil,  qual  lode  fia 
Uguale  al  tuo  gran  merto,  al  tuo  valore  ? 
Cede  a  te  nella  comica  palestra 
Ogni  Greco  e  Latin,  perche  tu  solo 
Hai  veramente  dimostrato  come 
Esser  deve  il  principio,  il  mezzo  e  '1  fine 
Delle  comedie,  etc. 

Le  Pellegrine,  Intermedio  Sesto,  published  by  Barbara,  1855. 

3  See  the  "  Esaltazione  della  Croce,"  Sacre  Rappresentazioni,  Le- 
monnier,  vol.  iii.  Compare  those  curious  hybrid  plays,  //  Figliuolo 
Psodigo,  La  Morte  del  Re  Acab,  La  Conversione  della  Scozia,  in  his 
collected  plays  (Lemonnier,  1856).  Lo  Sviato  may  be  mentioned  as  an- 
other of  his  comedies  derived  from  the  Sacre  Rappr.  with  a  distinctly 
didactic  and  moral  purpose. 

«  See  Prologue  to  La  Strega,  and  above,  p.  124. 


1 88  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

customs,  he  could  not  wholly  escape  from  the  manner- 
ism, into  which  the  dramatic  art  had  fallen.  Nor  was 
it  possible,  now  that  the  last  gleam  of  liberty  had  ex- 
pired in  Italy,  when  even  Florence  accepted  her  fate, 
and  the  Inquisition  was  jealously  watching  every  new 
birth  of  the  press,  to  create  what  the  earlier  freedom 
of  the  Renaissance  had  missed.  The  drama  was  con- 
demned to  trivialities  which  only  too  faithfully  reflected 
the  political  stagnation,  and  the  literary  trifling  of  a 
decadent  civilization.1 

It  is  worthy  of  notice,  as  a  final  remark  upon  the 
history  of  the  comic  stage,  that  at  this  very  moment  of 
its  ultimate  frustration  there  existed  the  germ  of  a 
drama  analogous  to  that  of  England,  only  waiting  to 
be  developed  by  some  master  spirit.  That  was  the 
Farsa,  which  Cecchi,  the  most  prolific,  original  and 
popular  of  Florentine  playwrights,  deigned  to  culti- 
vate.2 He  describes  it  thus :  "  The  Farsa  is  a  new 
third  species  between  tragedy  and  comedy.  It  enjoys 
the  liberties  of  both,  and  shuns  their  limitations ;  for  it 
receives  into  its  ample  boundaries  great  lords  and 
princes,  which  comedy  does  not,  and,  like  a  hospital  or 
inn,  welcomes  the  vilest  and  most  plebeian  of  the 
people,  to  whom  Dame  Tragedy  has  never  stooped.  It 
is  not  restricted  to  certain  motives;  for  it  accepts  all 
subjects — grave  and  gay,  profane  and  sacred,  urbane 
and  rude,  sad  and  pleasant. .  It  does  not  care  for  time 
or  place.  The  scene  may  be  laid  in  a  church,  or  a 

'  I  reserve  for  another  chapter  the  treatment  of  the  Pastoral,  which 
eventually  proved  the  most  original  and  perfect  product  of  the  Italian 
stage. 

*  The  titles  of  his  Parse  given  by  D'  Ancona  are  I Malandrini,  Pit- 
tura,  Andazzo,  Sciotta,  Romanesca. 


THE    FARSA. 


189 


public  square,  or  where  you  will ;  and  if  one  day  is  not 
long  enough,  two  or  three  may  be  employed.  What, 
indeed,  does  it  matter  to  the  Farsa?  In  a  word,  this 
modern  mistress  of  the  stage  is  the  most  amusing,  the 
most  convenient,  the  sweetest,  prettiest  country-lass 
that  can  be  found  upon  our  earth." 1  He  then  goes  on 
to  describe  the  liberty  of  language  allowed  in  the  Farsa, 
rounding  off  a  picture  which  exactly  applies  to  our 
Elizabethan  drama.  The  Farsa,  in  the  form  it  had 
assumed  when  Cecchi  used  it,  was,  in  fact,  the  survival 
of  an  ancient,  obscure  species  of  dramatic  art,  which 
had  descended  from  the  period  of  classical  antiquity, 
and  which  recently  had  blent  with  the  traditions  of 
the  Sacre  Rappresentazioni.  Had  circumstances  been 
favorable  to  the  development  of  a  national  drama  in 
Italy,  the  popular  elements  of  the  Pagan  farce  and  the 
medieval  Mystery  would  have  naturally  issued  through 
the  Farsa  in  a  modern  form  of  art  analogous  to  that 
produced  in  England.  But  the  Italians  had,  as  we 
have  seen,  no  public  to  demand  the  rehabilitation  of 
the  Farsa;  nor  was  Cecchi  a  Shakspere,  or  even  a 
Marlowe,  to  prove,  in  the  face  of  Latinizing  play- 
wrights, that  the  national  stage  lay  in  its  cradle  here. 
It  remained  for  the  poets  of  a  far-off  island,  who  dis- 
dained Italian  jigs  and  owed  nothing  to  the  Parse  of 
either  Florentine  or  Neapolitan  contemporaries,  acting 
by  instinct  and  in  concert  with  the  sympathies  of  a 
great  nation,  to  take  this  "  sweetest,  prettiest  country- 
lass  "  by  the  hand  and  -place  her  side  by  side  with 
Attic  Tragedy  and  Comedy  upon  the  supreme  throne 
of  art. 

1  Prologue  to  the  Romanesca,  Firenze,  Cenniniana,  1074. 


190  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

The  Italian  comedies  offer  an  even  more  startling 
picture  of  social  vice  than  the  Novelle}-  To  estimate 
how  far  they  represent  a  general  truth,  is  difficult ; 
especially  when  we  remember  that  they  were  written 
in  a  conventional  style,  to  amuse  princes,  academicians, 
and  prelates.2  Comparing  their  testimony  with  that  of 
private  letters  and  biographical  literature  (the  corre- 
spondence, for  example,  of  Alessandra  degli  Strozzi, 
Alberti's  treatise  on  the  Family,  and  statements  gleaned 
from  memoirs  and  Ricordi),  we  are  justified  in  believing 
that  a  considerable  difference  existed  at  the  commence- 
ment of  this  epoch  between  public  arid  domestic  man- 
ners in  Italy;  between  the  Court  and  the  home,  the 
piazza  and  the  fireside,  the  diversions  of  fashionable 
coteries  and  the  conversation  of  friends  and  kinsmen. 
The  family  still  retained  some  of  its  antique  simplicity. 
And  it  was  not  as  yet  vitiated  by  the  institution  of 
Cicisbeism.  But  the  great  world  was  incredibly  corrupt. 
Each  Court  formed  a  nucleus  of  dissolute  living.  Rome, 
stigmatized  successively  by  men  so  different  as  Lorenzo 
de'  Medici,  Pietro  Aretino,  Gian-Giorgio  Trissino, 
and  Messer  Guidiccioni,  poisoned  the  whole  Italian 

1  Dolce  in  the  Prologue  to  his  Ragazzo  says  that,  immodest  as  a 
comedy  may  be,  it  would  be  impossible  for  any  play  to  reproduce,  the 
actual  depravity  of  manners. 

«  What  I  have  already  observed  with  regard  to  the  Novelle — namely, 
that  Italy  lacked  the  purifying  and  ennobling  influences  of  a  real  public, 
embracing  all  classes,  and  stimulating  the  production  of  a  largely  de- 
signed, broadly  executed  literature  of  human  nature — is  emphatically 
true  also  of  her  stage.  The  people  demand  greatness  from  their  authors 
— simplicity,  truth,  nobleness.  They  do  not  shrink  from  grossness;  they 
tolerate  what  is  coarse.  But  these  elements  must  be  kept  in  proper  sub- 
ordination. Princes,  petty  coteries,  academies,  drawing-room  patrons, 
the  audience  of  the  antechamber  and  the  boudoir,  delight  in  subtleties, 
doubles  entendre,  scandalous  tales,  Divorce  Court  arguments.  The 
people  evokes  Shakspere;  the  provincial  Court  breeds  Bibbiena. 


ITALIAN  MORALITY.  jgj 

nation.  Venice  entertained  a  multitude  of  prostitutes, 
and  called  them  benemerita  in  public  acts.  Since, 
therefore,  these  centers  of  aristocratic  and  literary  life 
drew  recruits  from  the  burgher  and  rural  classes,  the 
strongholds  of  patriarchal  purity  were  continually  being 
sapped  by  contact  with  fashionable  uncleanliness.  And 
thus  in  the  sixteenth  century  a  common  standard  of 
immorality  had  been  substituted  for  earlier  severity  of 
manners.  The  convulsions  of  that  disastrous  epoch, 
following  upon  a  period  of  tranquillity,  during  which 
the  people  had  become  accustomed  to  luxury,  sub- 
merged, whole  families  in  vice.  "Wars,  famines,  and 
the  badness  of  the  times,"  wrote  Aretino,  "inclining  men 
to  give  themselves  amusement,  have  so  debauched  all 
Italy  (imputtanita  tutta  Italia),  that  cousins  and  kins- 
folk of  both  sexes,  brothers  and  sisters,  mingle  together 
without  shame,  without  a  shadow  of  conscience." * 
Though  it  is  preposterous  to  see  Aretino  posing  as  a 
censor  of  morals,  his  acuteness  was  indubitable;  nor 
need  we  suppose  that  his  acquaintance  with  the  disease 
rendered  him  less  sagacious  in  detecting  its  causes. 
What  Corio  tells  us  about  Lodovico  Sforza's  capital, 
what  we  read  about  the  excess  of  luxury  into  which 
the,  nobles  of  Vicenza  and  Milan  plunged,  amid  the 
horrors  of  the  French  and  Spanish  occupation,  confirms 
his  testimony.2  After  the  Black  Death,  described  by 
Matteo  Villani,  the  Florentines  consoled  themselves 
for  previous  sufferings  by  an  outburst  of  profligate  and 
reckless  living.  So  now  they  sought  distraction  in  un- 

1  Cortigiana,  act  ii.  sc.  10. 

2  See  Corio,  quoted  in  Age  of  the  Despots,  p.  548,  note  I.     For  Mi- 
lanese luxury,  Bandello,  vol.  i.  pp.  219  et  seq.\  vol.  iv.  p.  115  (Milan  edi- 
tion, 1814).     For  Vicenza,  Morsolin's  Trissino,  p.  291. 


1 9  2  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITAL  Y. 

bridled  sensuality.  Society  was  in  dissolution,  and 
men  lived  for  the  moment,  careless  of  consequences. 
The  immorality  of  the  theater  was  at  once  a  sign  and 
a  source  of  this  corruption.  "  O  times !  O  manners !  " 
exclaims  Lilius  Giraldus l :  "  the  obscenities  of  the 
stage  return  in  all  their  foulness.  Plays  are  acted  in 
every  city,  which  the  common  consent  of  Christendom 
had  banned  because  of  their  depravity.  Now  the  very 
prelates  of  the  faith,  our  nobles,  our  princes,  bring  them 
back  again  among  us,  and  cause  them  to  be  pub- 
licly presented.  Nay,  priests  themselves  are  eagerly 
ambitious  of  the  infamous  title  of  actors,  in  order  to 
bring  themselves  into  notoriety,  and  to  enrich  them- 
selves with  benefices." 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  immorality  of  the 
comic  stage  consists  in  the  license  of  language,  incident 
or  plot  Had  this  been  all,  we  should  hardly  be  justi- 
fied in  drawing  a  distinction  between  the  Italians  of  the 
Renaissance  and  our  own  Elizabethan  playwrights.  It 
lies  far  deeper,  in  the  vicious  philosophy  of  life  paraded 
by  the  authors,  in  the  absence  of  any  didactic  or  satiri- 
cal aim.  Moliere,  while  exposing  evil,  teaches  by 
example.  A  canon  of  goodness  is  implied,  from  which 
the  deformities  of  sin  and  folly  are  deflections.  But 
Machiavelli  and  Aretino  paint  humanity  as  simply  bad. 
The  palm  of  success  is  awarded  to  unscrupulous 
villainy.  An  incapacity  for  understanding  the  immut- 
able power  of  moral  beauty  was  the  main  disease  of 
Italy.  If  we  seek  the  cause  of  this  internal  cancer,  we 
must  trace  the  history  of  Italian  thought  and  feeling 

>  De  Poet.  Hist.  Dial.  8.     Giraldi  may  have  had  men  like  Inghirami, 
sumamed  "  Phaedra."  and  Cardinal  Bibbiena  in  view. 


SOCIETY  AND    THE    STAGE.  193 

back  to  the  age  of  Boccaccio;  and  we  shall  probably 
form  an  opinion  that  misdirected  humanism,  blending 
with  the  impieties  of  a  secularized  Papacy,  the  self- 
indulgence  of  tfie  despots,  and  the  coarse  tastes  of  the 
bourgeoisie,  had  sapped  the  conscience  of  society. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

PASTORAL    AND    DIDACTIC    POETRY. 

The  Idyllic  IdeaU-Golden  Age — ArcadiaV— Sannazzaro — His  Life — The 
Art  of  the  Arcadia — Picture-painting-i-Pontano's  Poetry — The  Nea- 
politan Genius*— Baiae  and  Eridanus— Eclogues — The  Play  of  Cefalo 
— Castiglione's  Ttrsi — Rustic  Romances — Molza's  Biography — The 
Ninfa  Tiberina — Progress  of  Didactic  Poetry — Rucellai's  Api — Ala- 
manni's  Coltivazione  —  His  Life — His  Satires  —  Pastoral  Dramatic 
Poetry — The  Aminta — The  Pastor  Fido  —  Climax  of  Renaissance 
Art. 

THE  transition  from  the  middle  ages  to  the  Renais- 
sance was  marked  by  the  formation  of  a  new  ideal, 
which  in  no  slight  measure  determined  the  type  of 
Italian  literature.  The  faiths  and  aspirations  of 
Catholicism,  whereof  the  Divine  Comedy  remains  the 
monument  in  art,  began  to  lose  their  hold  on  the  imag- 
ination. The  world  beyond  the  grave  grew  dim  to 
mental  vision,  in  proportion  as  this  world,  through 
humanism  rediscovered,  claimed  daily  more  attention. 
Poliziano's  contemporaries  were  as  far  removed  from 
Dante's  apprehension  of  a  future  life  as  modern  Evan- 
gelicals from  Bunyan's  vivid  sense  of  sin  and  salvation. 
This  parallel,  though  it  may  seem  strained,  is  close 
enough  to  be  serviceable.  As  the  need  of  conversion 
is  taken  for  granted  among  Protestants,  so  the  other 
world  was  then  assumed  to  be  real.  Yet  neither  the 
expectation  of  heavenly  bliss  nor  the  fear  of  purga- 
torial pain  was  felt  with  that  intense  sincerity  which 


THE    GOLDEN  AGE.  !95 

inspired  Dante's  cantos  and  Orcagna's  frescoes.  On 
both  emotions  the  new  culture,  appearing  at  one 
moment  as  a  solvent  through  philosophical  speculation, 
at  another  as  a  corrosive  in  the  skeptical  and  critical 
activity  it  stimulated,  was  acting  with  destructive 
energy.  The  present  offered  a  distracting  tumult  of 
antagonistic  passions,  harmonized  by  no  great  hope. 
The  future,  to  those  inexperienced  pioneers  of  modern 
thought,  was  dim,  although  the  haze,  through  which 
the  vision  came  to  them,  seemed  golden.  Thus  it 
happened  that  the  sensibilities  of  men  athirst  for  some 
consoling  fancy,  took  refuge  in  the  dream  of  a  past 
happy  age.  Virgil's  description  of  Saturn's  reign: 

Au  reus  hanc  vitam  in  terris  Saturnus  agebat, 
Necdum  etiam  audierant  inflari  classica,  necdum 
Impositos  duris  crepitare  incudibus  enses: 

fascinated  their  imagination,  and  they  amused  them 
selves  with  the  fiction  of  a  primal  state  of  innocence. 
Hesiod  and  the  Metamorphoses  of  Ovid,  the  Idyls  of 
Theocritus  and  Virgil's  Eclogues,  legends  of  early 
Greek  civility,  and  romances  of  late  Greek  literature 
contributed  their  several  elements  to  this  conception  of 
a  pastoral  ideal.  It  blent  with  Biblical  reminiscences 
of  Eden,  with  mediaeval  stories  of  the  Earthly  Para- 
dise. It  helped  that  transfusion  of  Christian  fancy 
into  classic  shape,  for  which  the  age  was  always  striv- 
ing.1 On .  one  side  the  ideal  was  purely  literary, 
reflecting  the  artistic  instincts  of  a  people  enthusiastic 
for  form,  and  affording  scope  for  their  imitative  activity. 
But  on  the  other  side  it  corresponded  to  a  deep  and 
genuine  Italian  feeling.  That  sympathy  with  rustic 

'  See  above, \Part  i.  p.  170,  for  the  Golden  Age  in  the  Quadriregio. 


196  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

life,  that  love  of  nature  humanized  by  industry,  that 
delight  in  the  villa,  the  garden,  the  vineyard,  and  the 
grove,  which  modern  Italians  inherited  from  their 
Roman  ancestors,  gave  reality  to  what  might  other- 
wise have  been  but  artificial.  Vespasiano's  anecdote 
of  Cosimo  de'  Medici  pruning  his  own  fruit-trees; 
Ficino's  description  of  the  village  feasts  at  Monte- 
vecchio;  Flamminio's  picture  of  his  Latin  farm;  Al- 
berti's  tenderness  in  gazing  at  the  autumn  fields — all 
these  have  the  ring  of  genuine  emotion.  For  men 
who  felt  thus,  the  Age  of  Gold  was  no  mere  fiction,  , 
and  Arcady  a  land  of  possibilities. 

What  has  been  well  called  la  volutfa  idillica — the 
^sensuous  sensibility  to  beauty,!  finding  fit  expression  in 
the  Idyl — formed  a  marked  characteristic  of  Renais- 
sance art  and  literature.  Boccaccio  developed  this 
idyllic  motive  in  all  his  works  which  dealt  with  the 
origins  of  society.  Poliziano  and  Lorenzo  devoted 
their  best  poetry  to  the  praise  of  rural  bliss,  the  happi- 
ness of  shepherd  folk  anterior  to  life  in  cities.  The 
same  theme  recurs  in  the  Latin  poems  of  the  humanists, 
from  the  sonorous  hexameters  of  the  Rusticus  down 
to  the  delicate  hendecasyllables  of  the  later  Lombard 
school.  It  pervades  the  elegy,  the  ode,  the  sonnet,  and 
takes  to  itself  the  chiefest  honors  of  the  drama.  The 
vision  of  a  Golden  Age  idealized  man's  actual  enjoy- 
ment of  the  country,  and  hallowed,  as  with  inexplicable 
pathos,  the  details  of  ordinary  rustic  life.  Weary  with 
Courts  and  worldly  pleasures,  in  moments  of  revolt 
against  the  passions  and  ambitions  that  wasted  their 
best  energies,  the  poets  of  that  century,  who  were  nearly 
always  also  men  of  state  and  public  office,  sighed  for 


ARCADIAN  IDEAL.  197 

the  good   old   times,   when   honor  was   an   unknown 
name,  and  truth  was  spoken,  and  love  sincere,  and, 
steel  lay  hidden  in  the  earth,  and  ships  sailed  not  the 
sea,  and  old  age  led  the  way  to  death  unterrified  by  . 
coming  doom.     As   time   advanced,  their   ideal   took 
form  and  substance.     There  rose    into   existence,  for 
the    rhymsters    to    wander    in,    and    for    the    readers 
of  romance  to  dream  about,  a  region  called  Arcadia,' 
where  all  that  was  imagined  of  the  Golden  Age  was| 
found  in  combination  with  refined  society  and  man- 
ners proper  to  the  civil  state.     A    literary  Eldorado 
had  been  discovered,  which  was  destined  to  attract  ex- 
plorers  through   the    next    three    centuries.     Arcadia  < 
became  the  wonder- world  of  noble  youths  and  maidens, 
at    Madrid    no   less    than    at    Ferrara,    in    Elizabeth's 
London  and  in  Marie  Antoinette's  Versailles.     After 
engaging  the  genius  of  Tasso  and  Guarini,   Spenser 
and    Sidney,   it  degenerated   into   quaint   convention- 
ality.    Companions  of  Turenne  and  Marlborough  told 
tales   of  pastoral   love   to   maids   of  honor   near   the 
throne.     Frederick's    and    Maria    Theresa's    courtiers 
simpered  and  sighed  like   Dresden-china  swains   and 
shepherdesses.     Crooked    sticks    with   ribbons   at   the 
top  were  a  fashionable  appendage  to  red-heeled  shoes  I 
and  powdered   perukes.     Few  phenomena  in  history  I 
are  more  curious  than  the  prolonged  prosperity  and  / 
widespread  fascination  of  this  Arcadian  romance. 

To  Sannazgaro  belongs  the  glory  of  having  first 
explored  Arcadia,  mapped  out  its  borders,  and  called 
it  after  his  own  name.  He  is  the  Columbus  of  this 
visionary  hemisphere.  Jacopo  Sannazzaro  has  more 
than  once  above  been  mentioned  in  the  chapters  de- 


198  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

voted  to  Latin  poetry.  But  the  events  of  his  life  have 
not  yet  been  touched  upon.1  His  ancestors  claimed  to 
have  been  originally  Spaniards,  settled  in  a  village  of 
Pavia  called  S.  Nazzaro,  whence  they  took  their  name. 
The  poet's  immediate  forefather  was  said  to  have  fol- 
lowed Charles  of  Durazzo  in  1380  to  the  south  of 
Italy,  where  he  received  fiefs  and  lands  in  the  Basili- 
cata.  Jacopo  was  born  at  Naples  in  1458,  and  was 
brought  up  in  his  boyhood  by  his  mother  at  S.  Cipri- 
ano.2  He  studied  at  Naples  under  the  grammarian 
Junianus  Maius,3  and  made  such  rapid  progress  in 
both  Greek  and  Latin  scholarship  as  soon  to  be  found 
worthy  of  a  place  in  Pontano's  Academy.  In  that 
society  he  assumed  the  pseudonym  of  Actius  Sincerus. 
The  friendship  between  Pontano  and  Sannazzaro  lasted 
without  interruption  till  the  former's  death  in  i5o3. 
Their  Latin  poems  abound  in  passages  which  testify 
to  a  strong  mutual  regard,  and  the  life-size  effigies  of 
both  may  still  be  seen  together  in  the  church  of  Monte 
Oliveto  at  Naples.4  Distinction  in  scholarship  was, 
after  the  days  of  Alfonso  the  Magnanimous,  a  sure 
title  to  consideration  at  the  Neapolitan  Court.  San- 
nazzaro attached  himself  to  the  person  of  Frederick, 
the  second  son  of  Ferdinand  I.;  and  when  this  prince 
succeeded  to  the  throne,  he  conferred  upon  the  poet  a 

i  The  chief  sources  of  Sannazzaro's  biography  are  a  section  of  his 
Arcadia  (Prosa,  vii.),  and  his  Latin  poems.  The  Sannazzari  of  Pavia 
had  the  honor  of  mention  in  Dante's  Convito.  Among  the  poet's  Latin 
odes  are  several  addressed  to  the  patron  saint  of  his  race.  See  San- 
nazarii  op.  omn.  Lot.  scripta  (Aldus,  1535),  pp.  16,  53,  56,  59. 

»  Elegy,  "  Quod  pueritiam  egerit  in  Picentinis,"  op.  cit.  p.  27. 

3  Elegy,  "Ad  Junianum  Maium  Prasceptorem,"  op.  cit.  p.  20. 

«  I  may  refer  in  particular  to  Sannazzaro's  beautiful  elegy  "  De  Studiis 
suis  et  Libris  Joviani  Pontani "  among  his  Latin  poems,  op.  cit.  p.  10. 
For  their  terra-cotta  portraits,  see  above,  Revival  of  Learning,  p.  365. 


SANNAZZARO'S   BIOGRAPHY. 


I99 


pension  of  600  ducats  and  the  pleasant  villa  of  Mer- 
goglino  between  the  city  and  Posilippo.1  This  recom- 
pense for  past  service  was  considerably  below  the 
poet's  expectations  and  deserts;  nor  did  he  receive  any 
post  of  state  importance.  Yet  Sannazzaro  remained 
faithful  through  his  lifetime  to  the  Aragonese  dynasty. 
He  attended  the  princes  on  their  campaigns;  espoused 
their  quarrels  in  his  fierce  and  potent  series  of  epi- 
grams against  the  Rovere  and  Borgia  Pontiffs;  and 
when  Frederick  retired  to  France  in  i5oi,  he  jour- 
neyed into  exile  with  his  royal  master,  only  returning 
to  Naples  after  the  ex-king's  death.  There  Sannazzaro 
continued  to  reside  until  his  own  death  in  1530.  His 
later  years  were  imbittered  by  the  destruction  of  his 
Villa  Mergellina  during  the  occupation  of  Naples  by 
the  imperial  troops  under  the  Prince  of  Orange.-  But 
with  the  exception  of  this  misfortune,  he  appears  to 
have  passed  a  quiet  and  honorable  old  age,  devoting 
himself  to  piety,  contributing  to  charitable  works  and 
church-building,  and  employing  his  leisure  in  study  and 
the  society  of  a  beloved  lady,  Cassandra  Marchesa. 
In  his  early  youth  Sannazzaro  formed  a  romantic 
attachment  for  a  girl  of  noble  birth,  called  Carmosina 
Bonifacia.  This  love  made  him  first  a  poet^and  the 
majority  of  his  Italian  verses  may  be  referred  to  its 
influence.  They  consist  of  sonnets  and  canzoni*. 
modeled  upon  Petrarch,  but  marked  by  independence 
of  treatment,  and  spontaneity  of  feeling.  The  puristic 
revival  had  not  yet  set  in,  and  Sannazzaro's  style 

1  Sannazzaro's  two  odes  on  "  Villa  Mergellina  "  and  "  Fons  Mergel- 
lines"  (Op.  cit.  pp.  31,  53),  are  among  his  purest  and  most  charming 
Latin  compositions. 


200  RENAISSANCE    IN  ITALY. 

shows  no  servile  imitation  of  his  model.  It  may  not 
be  out  of  place  to  give  a  specimen  in  translation  of 
these  early  Rime.  I  have  chosen  a  sonnet  upon 
jealousy,  which  La  Casa  afterwards  found  worthy  of 
rehandling : 

Horrible  curb  of  lovers,  Jealousy, 

That  with  one  force  doth  check  and  sway  my  will; 

Sister  of  loathed  and  impious  Death,  that  still 

With  thy  grim  face  troublest  the  tranquil  sky; 
Thou  snake  concealed  in  laughing  flowers  which  lie 

Rocked  on  earth's  lap;  thou  that  my  hope  dost  kill; 

Amid  fair  fortunes  thou  malignant  ill; 

Venom  mid  viands  which  men  taste  and  die  ! 
From  what  infernal  valley  didst  thou  soar, 

O  ruthless  monster,  plague  of  mortals,  thou 

That  darkenest  all  my  days  with  misery  o'er  ? 
Hence,  double  not  these  griefs  that  cloud  my  brow  ! 

Accursed  fear,  why  earnest  thou  ?    Was  more 

Needed  than  Love's  keen  shafts  to  make  me  bow  ? 

About  the  reality  of  Sannazzaro's  passion  for  Garmo- 
sina  there  can  be  no  doubt.  The  most  directly  power- 
ful passages  in  the  Arcadia^  are  those  in  which  he 
refers  to  it.1  His  southern  temperament  exposed  him 
to  the  fiercest  pangs  of  jealousy ;  and  when  he  found 
that  love  disturbed  his  rest  and  preyed  upon  his  health 
he  resolved  to  seek  relief  in  travel.  For  this  purpose 
he  went  to  France ;  but  he  could  not  long  endure  the 
exile  from  his  native  country;  and  on  his  return  he 

found  his  Carmosina  dead.     The  eleories  in  which  he 

i »'      • 

recorded  his  grief,  are  not  the  least  poetical  of  his 
compositions  both  in  Latin  'and  Italian.2  After  estab- 

'  She  is  described  in  Prosa  iv.,  and  frequently  mentioned  under  the 
name  of  Arancio  or  Amaranta, 

2  See  the  Epitaph  "  Hie  Amarantha  jacet,"  the  last  Eclogue  of  Ar- 
cadia, and  the  Latin  eclogue  "  Mirabar  vicina  Mycon,"  in  which  Carmos- 
ina is  celebrated  under  the  name  of  Phyllis.  I  may  here  call  attention  to 


LOVES  AND   LIFE   AT  NAPLES.  20 1 

lishing  himself  once  more  at  Naples,  Sannazzaro  began 
the  composition  of  the  EclogaPtsLalaruZt  in  which  he 
has  been  said  to  have  T5rought  the  pastoral  Muses 
down  to  the  sea  shore.  The  novelty  of  these  poems 
secured  for  them  no  slight  celebrity.  Nor  are  they 
without  real  artistic  merit.  The  charm  of  the  sea  is^ 
nowhere  felt  more  vividly  than  on  the  bay  of  Naples,  !\ 
and  nowhere  else  are  the  habits  of  a  fishing  popula 
tion  more  picturesque.  Nereids  and  Sirens,  Proteus 
and  Nisa,  Cymothoe  and  Triton,  are  not  out  of  place 
in  modern  verses,  which  can  commemorate  Naples, 
Ischia  and  Procida,  under  the  titles  of  Parthenope, 
Inarime  and  Prochyte.  Happy  indeed  is  the  poet,  if 
he  must  needs  write  Latin  elegies,  whose  home  sug- 
gests such  harmonies  and  cadences,  for  whom  Baise 
and  Cumae  and  the  Lucrine  Lake,  Puteoli  and  Capreae 
and  Stabiae,  are  household  words,  and  who  looks  from 
his  study  windows  daily  on  scenes  which  realize  the 
mythology  still  lingering  in  names  and  memories 
around  them  by  beauty  ever-present,  inexpressible. 
The  second  mistress  of  Sannazzaro's  heart  was  a 
noble  lady,  Cassandra  Marchesa.  He  paid  his  ad- 
dresses to  her  more  Platonico,  and  chose  her  for  the 
object  of  refined  compliments  in  classical  and  modern 
verse.  The  Latin  ejegies  and  epjgrams  are  full  of 
her  praises ;  and  one  of  the  Eclogues,  Pharmace^ltria, 
is  inscribed  with  her  name.  It  would  scarcely  have 
been  necessary  to  mention  this  courtly  attachment,  but 
for  the  pleasant  light  it  casts  upon  Sannazzaro's  char- 
acter. The  lady  whom  he  had  celebrated  and  de- 

Pontano's  elegy  beginning  "  Harmosyne  jacet  hie  "  in  the  Tumuli,  lib. 
ii.  (Joannis  Joviani  Pontani  Amorum  Libri,  etc.,  Aldus,  1518,  p.  87). 


202  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

fended  in  his  manhood,  was  the  friend  of  his  old  age. 
He  is  said  to  have  died  in  her  house.    0 

The  Arcadia '-was  begun  at  Nocera  in  Sannazzaro's 
youth,  continued  during  his  first  residence  in  France, 
and  finished  on  his  return  to  Naples.  So  much  can 
be  gathered  from  its  personal  references.  The  book_. 
blends  autobiography  and  fable  in  a  narrative  of  very 
languid  interest.  The  poet's  circumstances  and  emo- 
tions in  exile  are  described  at  one  moment  in  plain 
language,  at  another  are  presented  with  the  indirect- 
ness of  an  allegory.  Arcadia  in  some  passages  stands 
for  a  semi-savage  country-district  in  France ;  in  others 
it  is  the  dream-world  of  poetry  and  pastoral  simplicity. 
But  in  either  case  its  scenery  is  drawn  from  Sannaz- 
zaro's own  Italian  home.  The  inhabitants  are  shep- 
herds such  as  Virgil  fancied,  with  even  more  of  per- 
Isonal  refinement.  Through  their  lips  the  poet  tells 
the  tale  of  his  own  love,  and  paints  his  Neapolitan 
mistress  among  the  nymphs  of  Mount  Parthenion. 
Throughout,  we  note  an  awkward  interminglement  of 
subjective  and  objective  points  of  view.  Realism 
merges  into  fancy.  Experience  of  life  assumes  the  garb, 
of  myth  or  legend.  Neither  as  an  autobiographical  ro- 
man'ce  nor  again  as  a  work  of  pure  invention  has  the 
Arcadia  surpassing  merit.  Loose  in  construction  and 
uncertain  in  aim,  it  lacks  the  clearness  and  consistency 
of  perfect  art.  And  yet  it  is  a  masterpiece ;  because 
its  author,  led  by  prescienf  instinct,  contrived  to  make 
it  reflections  ofUie  deepest  ancLmqst^permanent  emo- 
tions of  Jbi»~lime.  The  whole  pastoral  IdeaT^—^he 
yearning  after  a  golden  age,  the  beauty  and  pathos  of 
the  country,  the  felicity  of  simple  folk,  the  details  of 


SANNAZZAR& 'S   AXCADfA. 


203 


rustjc  life,  the  charm  of  woods  and  gardens,  the  my- 
thology of  Pan  and  Satyrs,  Nymphs  and  Fauns — all 
this  is  expressed  in  a  series  of  pictures,  idyllically  grace- 
ful, artistically  felt.  It_is  not  forjts  story  that  we  read 
Arcadia,  but  for  the  Feast  of  Pales,  the  games  at  Mas- 
sifia*S  shrine,  the  Sacrifice  to  Pan,  Androgeo's  tomb, 
the  group  of  girls  a- may  ing,  the  carved  work  of  the 
beechen  cup,  the  passion  of.,Carino,  the  gardens  with 
their  flowers,  and  the  bands  of  youths  and  maidens 
meeting  under  shadowy  trees  to  dance  and  play.  Pic- 
tures like  these  are  presented  with  a  scrupulous  and 
loving  sincerity,  an  anxious  accuracy  of  studied  style, 
which  proves  how  serious  was  the  author.  His  heart, 
as  an  artist,  is  in  the  realization  of  his  dream-world ; 
and  his  touch  is  firm  and  dry  and  delicate  as  Mantegna's. 
Indeed,  we  are  constantly  reminded  of  the  Mante- 
gnesque  manner,  and  one  reference  justifies  the  belief 
that  Sannazzaro  strove  to  reproduce  its  effect.1  The 
sensuousness  of  the  Italian  feeling  for  mere  beauty  is 
tempered  with  reticence  and  something  of  the  coldness 
of  Greek  marbles. jfAn  point  of  diction,  Boccaccio  has 
been  obviously  imitated^  But  Boccaccio's  style  is  not 
-revived,  as  Masuccio  strove  to  revive  it,  with  the  fire 
and  energy  of  Southern  passion  substituted  for  its 
Tuscan  irony  and  delicacy.  On  the  contrary,  the 
periods  are  still  more  artificial,  the  turns  of  phrase 
more  tortured.  .  Sannazzaro  writes  with  difficulty  in  a 
somewhat  unfamiliar  language,  rendered  all  the  more 
stubborn  by  his  endeavors  to  add  classical  refine- 
ments. Boccaccio's  humor  is  gone;  his  sensuality  is 

i  In  Prosa  xi.  he  mentions  a  vase  painted  by  the  "  Padoano  Man- 
tegna,  artefice  sovra  tutti  gli  altri  accorto  ed  ingegnosissimo." 


204  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

purged  by  contact  with  antique  examples ;  the  waving 
groves  of  the  Filocopo  are  clipped  and  tutored  like 
box-hedges  in  an  academic  garden.  If  there  is  less  of 
natural  raciness  than  came  unsummoned  to  Boccaccio's 
aid,  there  is  more  of  Virgil  and  Theocritus  than  he 
chose  to  appropriate.  The  slow  deliberate  expan- 
sion of  each  picture,  stroke  by  stroke  and  touch  by 
touch,  reminds  us  of  the  quattrocento  painters;  while 
the  precieusete  of  the  phrasing  has  affinity  to  the 
manner  of  a  late  Greek  stylist,  especially  perhaps, 
though  almost  certainly  unconsciously,  to  that  of  Philo- 
stratus.  This  close  correspondence  of  the  Arcadia 
to  the  main  artistic  sympathies  of  the  Renaissance, 
rendered  it  indescribably  popular  in  its  own  age,  and 
causes  it  still  to  rank  as  one  of  the  representative 
masterpieces  of  the  epoch.  Through  its  peculiar 
blending  of  classical  and  modern  strains — the  feasts  of 
Pales  and  of  Pan  taking  color  from  Capo  di  Monte 
superstitions ;  the  nymphs  of  wood  and  river  modeled 
after  girls  from  Massa  and  Sorrento ;  the  yellow-haired 
shepherds  of  Mount  Msenalus  singing  love-laments 
for  Neapolitan  Carmosina — we  are  enabled  more 
nearly  than  in  almost  any  other  literary  essay  to  ap- 
preciate the  spirit  of  the  classical  revival  as  it  touched 
Italian  art.  A  little  earlier,  there  was  more  of  spon- 
taneity and  naivete.  A  little  later,  there  was  more  of 
conscious  erudition  and  consummate  skill.  The  Arca- 
dia comes  midway  between  the  Filocopo  and  the 
Patsor  Fido. 

It  is  time  to  turn  from  dissertation,  and  to  detach, 
almost  at  haphazard,  some  of  those  descriptions  which 
render  the  Arcadia  a  storehouse  of  illustrations  to  the 


THE    SHRINE    OF  PALES. 


205 


pictures  of  the  fifteenth  century.  I  will  first  select  the 
frescoes  on  the  front  of  Pales'  chapel,  endeavoring  so 
far  as  possible  to  reproduce  the  intricacies  and  quaint 
affectations  of  the  style.1  The  constant  abuse  of 
epithets,  and  the  structure  of  the  period  by  means 
of  relatives,  pegging  its  clauses  down  and  keeping 
them  in  their  places,  will  be  noticed  as  part  of  the 
Boccaccesque  tradition.  "  Intending  now  to  ratify  with  j 
souls  devout  the  vows  which  had  been  made  in  former  j 
times  of  need,  upon  the  smoking  altars,  all  together  in  / 
company  we  went  unto  the  sacred  temple,  along  whose 
frontal,  raised  upon  a  few  ascending  steps,  we  found 
above  the  doorway  painted  certain  woods  and  hills  of 
most  delightful  beauty,  full  of  leafy  trees  and  of  a 
thousand  sorts  of  flowers,  among  the  which  were  seen 
many  herds  that  went  a-pasture,  wending  at  pleasure 
through  green  fields,  with  peradventure  ten  dogs  to 
guard  them,  the  footsteps  of  the  which  upon  the  dust 
were  traced  most  natural  to  the  view.  Of  the  shepherds, 
some  were  milking,  some  shearing  wool,  others  playing 
on  pipes,  and  there  were  there  a  few,  who,  as  it 
seemed,  were  singing  and  endeavoring  to  keep  in 
tune  with  these.  But  that  which  pleased  me  to  regard 
with  most  attention  were  certain  naked  Nymphs, 
the  which  behind  a  chestnut  bole  stayed,  as  it  were, 
half-hidden,  laughing  at  a  ram,  who,  in  his  eagerness 
to  gnaw  a  wreath  of  oak  that  hung  before  his  eyes, 
forgot  to  feed  upon  the  grass  around  him.  In  that 
while  came  four  Satyrs,  with  horns  upon  their  heads 
and  goat's  feet,  stealing  through  a  shrubbery  of  lentisks, 
softly,  softly,  to  take  the  maidens  from  behind.  Whereof 

1  Prosa  iii. 


206  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

when  they  were  ware,  they  took  to  flight  through  the 
dense  grove,  shunning  nor  thorns  nor  aught  else  that 
might  annoy  them ;  and  of  these  one,  nimbler  than  the 
rest,  was  clinging  to  a  hornbeam's  branches,  and 
thence,  with  a  long  bough  in  her  hands,  defending 
herself.  The  others  had  cast  themselves  through 
fright  into  a  river,  wherethrough  they  fled  a-swimming; 
and  the  clear  water  hid  little  or  but  nothing  of  their 
snow-white  flesh.  But  whenas  they  saw  themselves 
escaped,  they  sat  them  down  on  the  further  bank, 
fordone  with  toil  and  panting,  drying  their  soaked  hair, 
and  thence  with  word  and  gesture  seemed  to  mock  at 
those  who  had  not  shown  the  power  to  capture 
them.  And  in  one  of  the  sides  there  was  Apollo,  with 
the  yellowest  hair,  leaning  upon  a  wand  of  wild  olive, 
and  watching  Admetus'  herds  beside  a  river-bed ;  and 
thus,  intently  gazing  on  two  sinewy  bulls  which  jousted 
with  their  horns,  he  was  not  ware^of  wily  Mercury, 
who  in  a  shepherd's  habit,  with  a  kid-skin  girded  under 
his  left  shoulder,  stole  the  cows  away  -from  him.  And 
in  that  same  space  stood  Battus,  the  bewrayer  of  the 
theft,  transformed  into  a  stone,  stretching  his  finger 
forth  in  act  of  one  who  pointed.  A  little  lower, 
Mercury  was  seen  again,  seated  upon  a  large  stone, 
and  playing  with  swollen  cheeks  upon  a  rustic  pipe, 
while  his  eyes  were  turned  to  mark  a  white  calf  close 
beside  him,  and  with  most  cunning  arts  he  strove  to 
cozen  Argus  of  the  many*  eyes.  On  the  other  side,  at 
the  foot  of  an  exceeding  high  oak-tree,  was  stretched  a 
shepherd  asleep  among  his  goats;  and  a  dog  stayed 
near  him,  smelling  at  his  pouch,  which  lay  beneath  his 
head;  and  he,  forasmuch  as  the  moon  gazed  at  him 


MYTHOLOGICAL    FRESCOES. 


207 


with  glad  eyes,  methought  must  be  Endymion.  Next 
to  him  was  Paris,  who  with  his  <§^0e)  had  begun  to 
carve  (Enone  on  an  elm-tree's  bark,  and  being  called 
to  judge  between  the  naked  goddesses  that  stood 
before  him,  had  not  yet  been  able  to  complete  his 
work.  But  what  was  not  less  subtle  in  the  thought 

»  o 

than  pleasant  in  the  seeing  was  the  shrewdness  of  the 
wary  painter,  who,  having  made  Juno  and  Minerva  of 
such  extreme  beauty  that  to  surpass  them  was  impos- 
sible, and  doubting  of  his  power  to  make  Venus  so 
lovely  as  the  tale  demanded,  had  painted  her  with  back 
turned,  covering  the  defect  of  art  by  ingenuity  of  inven- 
tion. And  many  other  things  right  charming  and  most 
beautiful  to  look  upon,  of  the  which  I  now  have  but 
a  faulty  memory,  I  saw  there  painted  upon  divers 
places."  It  is  clear  that  Sannazzaro  had  not  read 
Lessing's  Laocoon  or  noted  the  distinctions  between 
poetry  and  painting.  Yet  in  this  he-  was  true  to  the 
spirit  of  his  age ;  for  actions  no  less  continuous  than 
some  of  those  described  by  him,  may  be  found  repre- 
sented in  the  frescoes  of  Gozzoli  or  Lippo  Lippi. 

The  finished  portrait~~~of  Sannazzaro's  mistress 
Carmosina  shall  supply  my  next  quotation.1  The 
exile  is  listening  to  shepherds  singing,  and  one  of  them 
has  mentioned  Amaranta.  He  knows  that  she  is 
present,  and  resolves  to  choose  her  by  her  gestures 
from  the  rest.  "  With  wary  glance,  watching  now  one 
and  now  another,  I  saw  among  the  maidens  one  who 
seemed  to  me  the  loveliest.  Her  hair  was  covered 
with  a  very  thin  veil,  beneath  which  two  eyes,  lovely 
and  most  brilliant,  sparkled  not  otherwise  than  the 

i  Prosa  iv. 


208  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

clear  stars  are  wont  to  shine  in  a  serene  and  limpid 
sky ;  and  her  face,  inclining  somewhat  to  the  oval  more 
than  the  round,  of  fair  shape,  with  a  pallor  that  was  not 
unpleasing,  but  tempered,  as  it  "were  toward  dark  com- 
plexion turning,  and  relieved  therewith  by  vermeil  and 
gracious  hues,  filled  with  joy  of  love  the  eyes  that 
gazed  on  her.  Her  lips  were  of  the  sort  that  surpass 
the  morning  roses ;  between  the  which,  each  time  she 
spoke  or  smiled,  she  showed  some  portion  of  her  teeth, 
of  such  rare  and  marvelous  grace  that  I  could  not  have 
compared  them  to  aught  else  but  orient  pearls.  Thence 
passing  down  to  her  marble  and  delicate  throat,  I  saw 
upon  that  tender  bosom  the  slight  and  youthful  breasts, 
which,  like  two  rounded  apples,  thrust  her  robe  of 
finest  texture  somewhat  forward ;  and  in  the  midst  of 
them  I  could  discern  the  fairest  little  way,  exceeding 
pleasant  to  the  sight,  the  which,  because  it  ended  and 
escaped  the  view,  was  reason  why  I  dwelt  thereon 
with  greater  force  of  thought.  And  she,  with  most 
delicate  gait  and  a  gentle  and  aspiring  stature,  went 
through  the  fair  fields,  with  her  white  hand  plucking 
tender  flowers.  With  the  which  when  she  had  filled 
her  lap,  no  sooner  had  the  singing  youth  within  her 
hearing  mentioned  Amaranta,  than,  dropping  her 
hands  and  gathered  robe,  and  as  it  were  lost  to  her 
own  recollection,  without  her  knowing  what  befell,  they 
all  slid  from  her  grasp,  sowing  the  earth  with  perad- 
venture  twenty  sorts  of  -colors.  Which,  as  though 
suddenly  brought  to  herself,  when  she  perceived,  she 
blushed  not  otherwise  than  sometimes  reddens  the 
enchanted  moon  with  rosy  aspect,  or  as,  upon  the 
issuing  of  the  sun,  the  red  Aurora  shows  herself  to 


AMARANTA.  209 

mortal  gaze.  Whereupon  she,  not  for  any  need 
methinks  compelling  her  thereto,  but  haply  hoping 
better  thus  to  hide  the  blushes  that  came  over  her, 
begotten  by  a  woman's  modesty,  bent  toward  earth 
again  to  pick  them  up,  as  though  she  cared  for  only 
that,  choosing  the  white  flowers  from  the  crimson  and  the 
dark  blue  from  the  violet  blossoms."  Amaranta  makes 
a  pretty  picture,  but  one  which  is  too  elaborate  in  de- 
tail. Her  sisterhood  is  described  with  touches  more 
negligent,  and  therefore  the  more  artful.1  "  Some  wore 
garlands  of  privet  with  yellow  buds  and  certain  crimson 
intermingled;  others  had  white  lilies  and  purple  mixed 
with  a  few  most  verdant  orange  leaves  between;  one 
went  starred  with  roses,  and  yon  other  whitened  with 
jasmines.  So  that  each  by  herself  and  altogether  were 
more  like  to  divine^  spirits  than  to  human  creatures. 
Whereupon  many  men  there  present  cried  with  won- 
der: O  blessed  the  possessor  of  such  beauties !  "  The 
young  swains  are  hardly  less  attractive  than  their 
nymphs.2  "  Logisto  and  Elpino,  shepherds,  comely  of 
person  and  in  years  within  the  bounds  of  earliest  youth: 
Elpino  guardian  of  goats,  Logisto  of  the  woolly  sheep: 
both  with  hair  yellower  than  ripe  ears  of  corn:  both  of 
Arcadia;  both  fit  alike  to  sing  and  to  make  answer." 

Sannazzaro's  touch  upon  inanimate  nature  is  equally  1 
precise.     Here  is  a  description  of  the  evening  sky.3  [ 
"  It  was  the  hour  when  sunset  embroidered  all  the  west 
with  a  thousand  varieties  of  clouds;  some  violent,  some 
darkly  blue,  and  certain  crimson;  others  between  yel- 
low and  black,  and  a  few  so  burning  with  the  fire  of 
backward-beaten  rays  that  they  seemed  as  though  of 
i  Prosa  iv.  2  Ibifi.  3  Prosa  v. 


210  RENAISSANCE    IN  ITALY. 

polished  and  finest  gold."  Here  is  a  garden1 :  "  Moved 
by  sympathy  for  Ergasto,  many  shepherds  had  more- 
over wrought  the  place  about  with  high  hedges,  not  of 
thorns  or  briars,  but  of  junipers,  roses  and  jasmines, 
and  had  delved  therein  with  their  mattocks  a  pastoral 
seat,  and  at  even  spaces  certain  towers  of  rosemary 
and  myrtles  interwoven  with  the  mos;.  incomparable 
art."  Here  are  flowers 2 :  "  There  were  lilies,  there 
privets,  there  violets  toned  to  amorous  pallor,  and  in 
large  abundance  the  slumberous  poppies  with  their  lean- 
ing heads,  and  the  ruddy  spikes  of  the  immortal  ama- 
ranth, most  comely  of  coronals  mid  winter's  rudeness." 
The  same  research  of  phrase  marks  the  exhibition 
of  emotion.  Carino,  the  shepherd,  tells  how,  over- 
whelmed with  grief,  he  lay  upon  the  ground  and  seemed 
lost  to  life 3 :  "  Came  the  oxherds,  came  the  herdsmen 
of  the  sheep  and  goats,  together  with  the  peasants  of 
the  neighboring  farms,  deeming  me  distraught,  as  of  a 
truth  indeed  I  was;  and  all  with  deepest  pity  asked  the 
reason  of  my  woe.  Unto  whom  I  made  no  answer,  but, 
minding  my  own  weeping,  thus  with  lamentable  voice, 
exclaimed:  You  of  Arcady  shall  sing  among  your 
mountains  of  my  death  Jf  You  of  Arcady,  who  only, 
have  the  art  of  song,  you  of  my  death  shall  sing  amid 
your  mountains!"  His  complaint  extends  to  a  lengt'h 
which  'defies  quotation.  But  here  is  an  extract  from 
it4:  "O  gods  of  heaven  and  earth,  and  whosoe'er  ye 
are  who  have  regard  for*  wretched  lovers,  lend,  I  pray, 
your  ears  of  pity  to  my  lamentation,  and  listen  to  the 
dolent  cries  my  tortured  spirit  sendeth  forth !  O  Nai- 
ads, dwellers  in  the  running  water  brooks !  O  Napean 

Prosa  x.  *  Ibid.  3  Prosa  viii.  *  Ibid. 


CARINCTS  LAMENT.  2II 

nymphs,  most  gracious  haunters  of  far  places  and  of 
liquid  fonts,  lift  up  your  yellow  tresses  but  a  little 
from  the  crystal  waves,  and  receive  these  my  last  cries 
before  I  perish !  O  you,  O  fairest  Oreads,  who  naked 
on  the  hanging  cliffs  are  wont  to  go  achase,  leave  now 
your  lofty  mountain  realm,  and  in  my  misery  visit  me, 
for  I  am  sure  to  win  your  sorrow  by  what  brings  my 
cruel  maid  delight!  Come  forth  from  your  trees,  O 
pitying  Hamadryads,  ye  anxious  guardians  over  them, 
and  turn  your  thoughts  a  little  toward  the  martyrdom 
these  hands  of  mine  prepare  for  me !  And  you,  O 
Dryads,  most  beauteous  damsels  of  the  woods  pro- 
found, ye  who  not  once  but  many  and  many  a  time 
have  watched  our  shepherds  at  the  fall  of  eve  in  circle 
dancing  neath  the  shadow  of  cool  walnut  trees,  with 
yellowest  curls  a-ripple  down  their  snow-white  necks, 
cause  now  I  pray,  if  you  are  not  with  my  too  changeful 
fortune  changed,  that  mid  these  shades  my  death  may 
not  be  mute,  but  ever  grow  from  day  to  day  through 
centuries  to  come,  so  that  the  tale  of  years  life  lacks, 
may  go  to  lengthen  out  my  fame  !  " 

For  English  students  the  Arcadia  has  a  special 
interest,  since  it  begot  the  longer  and  more  ambitious  / 
work  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney.  Hitherto  I  have  spoken 
only  of  its  prose;  but  the  book  blends  prose  and 
verse  in  alternating  sections.  The  verse  consists  of 
mingled  terza  rima,  canzoni  and  sestines.  Not  less 
artificial  -and  decrdedly  less  original  than  the  prose, 
Sannazzaro's  lyrics  and  eclogues  do  not  demand  par- 
ticular attention.  He  put  needless  restraint  upon  him- 
self by  affecting  the  awkwardness  of  sdrucciolo  rhymes ! ; 

»  Even  in  this  Sidney  tried  to  follow  him,  with  an  effect  the  clumsi- 


212  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

and  he  lacked  the  roseate  fluency,  the  winning  ease, 
the  unaffected  graces  of  Poliziano.  One  sestine, 
sung  by  himself  among  the  shepherds  of  Arcady,  I 
have  translated,  because  it  paints  the  actual  conditions 
of  life  which  drove  Sannazzaro  into  his  first  exile.1 
But  the  singularly  charmless  form  adopted,  which 
even  Petrarch  hardly  rendered  tolerable,  seems  to 
check  the  poet's  spontaneity  of  feeling. 

Even  as  a  bird  of  night  that  loathes  the  sun, 
I  wander,  woe  is  me,  through  places  dark, 
The  while  refulgent  day  doth  shine  on  earth; 
Then  when  upon  the  world  descendeth  eve, 
I  cannot,  like  all  creatures,  sink  in  sleep, 
But  wake  to  roam  and  weep  among  the  fields. 

If  peradventure  amid  woods  and  fields, 
Where  shines  not  with  his  radiance  the  sun, 
Mine  eyes,  o'er-tired  with  weeping,  close  in  sleep, 
Harsh  dreams  and  wandering  visions,  vain  and  dark, 
Affright  me  so  that  still  I  shrink  at  eve, 
For  fear  of  sleep,  from  resting  on  the  earth. 

0  universal  mother,  kindly  earth, 

Shall't  ever  be  that,  stretched  on  verdant  fields, 
In  slumber  deep,  upon  that  latest  eve, 

1  ne'er  shall  wake  again,  until  the  sun 
Rise  to  reveal  his  light  to  eyelids  dark, 

And  stir  my  soul  again  from  that  long  sleep? 

From  that  first  moment  when  I  banished  sleep, 
And  left  my  bed  to  lay  myself  on  earth, 
The  cloudless  days  for  me  were  drear  and  dark, 
And  turned  to  stubbly  straw  the  flowery  fields; 
So  that  when  morn  to  men  brings  back  the  sun, 
It  darkens  round  mine,  eyes  in  shadowy  eve. 

My  lady,  of  her  kindness,  came  one  eve, 

Joyous  and  very  fair,  to  me  in  sleep, 

And  gladdened  all  my  heart,  even  as  the  sun, 

ness  of  which  can  only  be  conceived  by  those  who  have  read  his  triple- 
rhyming  English  terza  rima. 
1  Egloga  vii. 


»'3 


re 


A    SESTINE. 

When  rains  are  past,  is  wont  to  clear  the  earth; 
And  said  to  me:  Come,  gather  from  my  fields 
Some  flow'ret;  cease  to  haunt  those  caverns  dark. 

Fly  hence,  fly  hence,  ye  tedious  thoughts  and  dark, 
That  have  obscured  me  in  so  long  an  eve! 
For  I'll  go  seek  the  sunny  smiling  fields, 
Taking  upon  their  herbage  honeyed  sleep: 
Full  well  I  know  that  ne'er  man  made  of  earth 
More  blest  than  now  I  am  beheld  the  sun! 

Song,  in  mid  eve  thou'lt  see  the  orient  sun, 
And  me  neath  earth  among  those  regions  dark, 
Or  e'er  on  yonder  fields  I  take  my  sleep. 

Whether  the  distinctively  Neapolitan  note  can  be 
discerned  in  Sannazzaro,  seems  more  than  doubtful.  As 
in  his  Sapphic  Odes  and  Piscatory  Eclogues,  so  also 
in  his  Arcadia  we  detect  the  working  of  a  talent  self- 
restrained  within  the  limits  of  finely-tempered  taste, 
^he  case  is  very  different  with  Pontano's  Latin  elegies 
and  lyrics.1  They  breathe  the  sensuality  and  self- 
abandonment  to  impulse  of  a  Southern  temperament. 
They  reflect  the  profuseness  of  nature  in  a  region 
where  men  scarcely  know  what  winter  means,  her 
somewhat  too  nakedly  voluptuous  beauties,  her  vol- 
canic energies  and  interminglement  of  living  fire  with 
barren  scoriae.  For  this  reason,  and  because  there  is 
some  danger  of  neglecting  the  special  part  played  by 
the  Southern  Province  in  Italian  literary  history,  I  am 

1  From  my  chapter  on  Latin  poetry  in  the  Revival  of  Learning  I  pur- 
posely omitted  more  than  a  general  notice  of  Pontano's  erotic  verses, 
intending  to  treat  of  them  thereafter,  when  it  should  be  necessary  to  dis- 
cuss the  Neapolitan  contribution  to  Italian  literature.  The  lyrics  and 
elegies  I  shall  now  refer  to,  are  found  in  two  volumes  of  Pontani  Opera, 
published  by  Aldus,  1513  and  1518.  These  volumes  I  shall  quote  to- 
gether, using  the  minor  titles  of  Amoriim,  Hendecasyllabi,  and  so  forth, 
and  mentioning  the  page.  I  am  sorry  that  I  have  not  a  uniform  edition 
of  his  Latin  poetry  (if  that,  indeed,  exists,  of  which  I  doubt)  before  me. 


2 1 4  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITAL  Y. 

induced  to  digress  from  the  main  topic  of  this  chapter 
in  the  direction  of  Pontano's  poetry. 

Though  a  native  of  Cerreto  in  Umbria,  Potano 
passed  his  life  at  Naples,  and  became,  if  we  may  trust 
the  evidence  of  his  lyrics,  more  Neapolitan  than  the 
Neapolitans.  In  him  the  southern  peoples  found  a 
voice,  which,  though  it  uttered  a  dead  language,  ex- 
pressed their  sentiments.  It  is  unlucky  that  Pontano, 
who  deserves  to  be  reckoned  as  the  greatest  poet  of 
Naples,  should  have  made  this  important  contribution 
to  Italian  literature  in  Latin.  Whether  at  that  moment 
he  could  have  spoken  so  freely  in  the  vulgar  tongue  is 
more  than  doubtful.  But  be  that  as  it  may,  we  must 
have  recourse  to  his  Latin  poems,  in  order  to  supply  a 
needed  link  in  the  chain  of  Italian  melody.  Carducci 
acutely  remarked  that,  more  than  any  other  poems 
of  the  century,  they  embody  "  the  aesthetic  and  learned 
reaction  against  the  mystical  idealism  of  Christianity  in 
a  preceding  age."  They  do  so  better  than  Beccadelli's, 
because,  Vhere  the  Hcrmaphroditus  is  obscene,  the 
Eridanus,  Baice,  Amor  Conjugalis,  Pomptz,  Naniee 
of  rontano  are  only  sensual.  The  cardinal  point  in 
JPontano  is  the  breadth  of  his  feeling.  He  touches  the 
/whole  scale  of  natural  emotions  with  equal  passion 
I  and  sincerity.  The  love  of  the  young  man  for  his 
sweetheart,  the  love  of  the  husband  for  his  bride,  the 
love  of  a  father  for  his  .offspring,  the  love  of  a  nurse 
for  her  infant  charge,  find  in  his  verse  the  same  full 
sensuous  expression.  In  Pontano  there  is  no  more  of 
Teutonic  Schwdrmerci  than  of  Dantesque  transcen- 
dentalism. He  does  not  make  us  marvel  how  the 
young  man,  who  has  embroidered  odes  upon  the 


PONTANO'S   NEAPOLITAN  LYRICS.  215 

theme  of  Alma  Pellegrina,  or  who  has  woven  violet 
and  moonshine  into  some  Du  bist  wie  eine  Blume, 
can  submit  to  light  the  hymeneal  torch  and  face  the 
prose  of  matrimony.  Within  the  limits  of  unsophisti- 
cated instinct  he  is  perfectly  complete  and  rounded 
to  a  flawless  whole.  He  does  not  say  one  thing  and 
leave  another  to  be  understood — a  contradiction  that 
imports  some  radical  unreality  into  the  Platonic  or 
sentimental  modes  of  sexual  expression.  He  expects 
woman  to  weigh  but  little  less  than  man  in  scales  of 
natural  appetite.  And  yet  his  Muse  is  no  mere 
vagrant  Venus.  She  is  a  respectable  if  not,  accord- 
ing to  our  present  views,  an  altogether  decent  Juno. 
The  final  truth  about  her  is  that  she  revealed  to 
her  uniquely  gifted  bard,  on  earth  and  in  the  shrine 
of  home,  that  poetry  of  love  which  Milton  afterwards 
mythologized  in  Eden.  The  note  of  unadulterated 
humanity  sounds  with  a  clearness  that  demands  com- 
memoration in  this  poetry  of  passion.  It  is,  if  not 
the  highest,  yet  the  frankest  and  most  decided  utter- 
ance of  mutual,  legitimate  desire.  As  such,  it  occu- 
pies an  enviable  place  in  the  history  of  Italian  love — 
equally  apart  from  trecento  sickliness  and  cinque  cento 
corruption ;  unrefined  perchance,  but  healthy ;  doing 
justice  to  the  proletariate  of  Naples  whence  it  sprung. 
Pontano  paints  all  primitive  affections  in  a  way  to 
justify  his  want  of  reticence.  His  Fannia,  Focilla, 
Stella,  Ariadne,  Cinnama — mistress  or  wife,  we  need 
not  stop  to  question — are  the  very  opposite  of  Dante's 
or  of  Petrarch's  loves.1  Liberal  of  their  charms,  re- 

i  Fannia  is  the  most  attractive  of  these  women.    See  Amorum,  lib.  i. 
pp.  4,  5,  13.     Stella,  the  heroine  of  the  Eridani,  is  touched  with  greater 


2l6  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

joicing  like  the  waves  of  the  Chiaja  in  the  laughter  of 
the  open  day,  they  think  it  no  shame  to  unbare  their 
beauties  to  their  lover's  eyes,  or  to  respond  with  ar- 
dor to  his  caresses.  Christian  modesty,  medieval 
asceticism,  the  strife  between  the  spirit  and  the  flesh, 
the  aspiration  after  mystic  modes  of  feeling,  have  been 
as  much  forgotten  in  their  portraits,  as  though  the 
world  had  never  undergone  reaction  against  paganism. 
And  yet  they  differ  from  the  women  of  the  Roman 
elegiac  poets.  They  are  less  artificial  than  Corinna. 
Though  "the  sweet  witty  soul  of  Ovid"  passed  over 
these  honeyed  elegies,  the  Neapolitan  poet  remains  a 
bourgeois  of  the  fifteenth  century.  His  passion  is  un- 
reservedly sensual  and  at  the  same  time  tenderly  affec- 
tionate. Its  motive  force  is  sexual  desire;  its  depth 
and  strength  are  in  the  love  a  husband  and  a  father 
feels.  Given  the  verses  upon .  Fannia  alone,  we 
should  be  justified  in  calling  Pontano  a  lascivious  poet. 
The  three  books  De  Amore  Conjugcdi  show  him  in  a 
different  light.  He  there  expounds  the  duties  and 
relations  of  the  family  with  the  same  robust  and  un- 
affected force  of  feeling  he  had  shown  in  the  descrip- 
tion of  a  wanton.  After  painting  his  Stella  with  the 
gusto  of  an  Italian  Rubens,  he  can  turn  to  shed  tears 
almost  sublime  in  their  pathos  over  the  tomb  of  Lucia 
his  daughter,  or  to  write  a  cradle-song  for  his  son 
Luciolus.1  The  carnal  appetites  which  are  legitimated 

delicacy.     Cinnama  seems  to  have  been  a  girl  of  the  people.     Pontano 
borrows  for  her  the  language  of  popular  poetry  (Amorum,  i.  19). 
Ipsa  tibi  dicat,  mea  lux,  mea  vita,  meus  flos, 

Liliolumque  meum,  basiolumque  meum. 
Carior  et  gemmis,  et  caro  carior  auro, 

Tn  rosa,  tu  violae,  tu  mihi  laevis  onyx. 
'  Among  the  most  touching  of  his  elegiac  verses  is  the  lament  ad  - 


POETRY   OF  NUPTIAL   LOVE. 


217 


by  matrimony  and  hallowed  in  domestic  relations,  but 
which  it  is  the  custom  of  civilized  humanity  to  veil, 
assume  a  tone  of  almost  Bacchic  rapture  in  this  fluent 
Latin  verse.  This  constitutes  Pontano's  originality. 
Such  a  combination  has  never  been  presented  to  the 
world  before  or  since.  The  genial  bed,  from  which  he 
draws  his  inspiration,  found  few  poets  to  appreciate  it 
in  ancient  days,  and  fewer  who  have  dared  to  cele- 
brate it  so  unblushingly  among  the  moderns.1 

The  same  series  of  Pontano's  poems  may  be  read 
with  no  less  profit  for  their  pictures  of  Neapolitan  life.2 
1  He  brings  the  baths  of  Baiae,  unspoiled  as  yet  by  the 
eruption  from  Monte  Nuovo,  vividly  before  us;  the 
myrtle-groves  and  gardens  by  the  bay;  the  sailors 
stretched  along  the  shore;  the  youths  and  maidens, 
flirting  as  they  bathe  or  drink  the  waters,  their  even- 
ing walks,  their  little  dinners,  their  assignations;  all 
the  round  of  pleasure  in  a  place  and  climate  made  for 

dressed  to  his  dead  wife  upon  the  death  of  their  son  Lucius,  Erida- 
norum,  lib.  ii.  p.  134.  The  collection  of  epitaphs  called  Tumuli  bears 
witness  to  the  depth  and  sincerity  of  his  sorrow  for  the  dead,  to  the  all- 
embracing  sympathy  he  felt  for  human  grief.  The  very  original  series  of 
lullabies,  entitled  Ncenice,  illustrate  the  warmth  of  his  paternal  feeling. 
The  nursery  has  never  before  or  since  been  celebrated  with  such  exuber- 
ance of  fancy—and  in  the  purest  Ovidian  elegiacs!  It  may,  however, 
be  objected  that  there  is  too  much  about  wet-nurses  in  these  songs. 

1  Pontano  revels  in  Epithalamials  and  pictures  of  the  joys  of  wedlock. 
See  the  series  of  elegies  on  Stella,  Eridanorum,  lib.  i.  pp.  108,  in,  113, 
115;  the  congratulation  addressed  to  Alfonso,  Duke  of  Calabria,  Hende- 
casyllaborum,  lib.  i.  p.  194;  and  two  among  the  many  Epithalamial 
hymns,  Hendec.  lib.  i.  p.  195;  Lepidlna,  Pompa  7,  p.  172,  with  its  reiter- 
ated "  Dicimus  o  hymenase  lo  hymen  hymenaee."    The  sensuality  of 
these  compositions  will  be  too  frank  and  fulsome  for  a  chastened  taste; 
but  there  is  nothing  in  them  extra  or  infra-human. 

2  Hendecasyllaborum,  lib.  i.  and  ii.  pp.  186-218.     If  one  of  these 
lyrics  should  be  chosen  from  the  rest,  I  should  point  to  "  Invitantur 
pueri  et  puellae  ad  audiendum  Charitas,"  p.  209.     It  begins  "Ad  myr- 
tum  juvenes  venite,  myrti." 


2i8  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

love.     Or  we  watch  the  people  at  their  games,  crowded ) 
together  on  those  high-built  carts,  rattling  the  tarn-' 
bourine  and  dancing  the  tarantella — as  near  to  fauns 
and   nymphs   in    shape    as    humanity   well    may   be.1 
Each    mountain   and   each  stream  is  personified;   the 
genii  of  the  villages,  the  Oreads  of  the  copses,  the 
Tritons  of  the  waves,  come  forth  to  play  with  men2: 

Claudicat  hinc  heros  Capimontius,  et  de  summo 
Colle  ruunt  misti  juvenes  mistaeque  puellae; 
Omnis  amat  chorus,  et  juncti  glomerantur  amantes. 
Is  lento  incedit  passu,  baculoque  tuetur 
Infirmum  femur,  et  choreis  dat  signa  movendis, 
Assuetus  choreae  ludisque  assuetus  amantum. 

Nor  are  these  personifications  merely  frigid  fictions. 
The  landscape  of  Naples  lends  itself  to  mythology,  not 
only  because  it  is  so  beautiful,  but  because  human  life 
and  nature  interpenetrate,  as  nowhere  else  in  Europe, 
on  that  bay.  Pontano  has  a  tale  to  tell  of  every  river 
and  every  grove — how  Adonis  lives  again  in  the  orange 
trees  of  Sorrento,  how  the  Sebeto  was  a  boy  beloved 
by  one  of  Nereus'  daughters  and  slain  by  him  in  anger.3 
His  tendency  to  personification  was  irresistible.  Not 
content,  like  Sannazzaro,  with  singing  the  praises  of  his 
villa,  he  feigns  a  Nympha  Antiniana,  whom  he  invokes 
as  the  Muse  of  neo- Latin  lyric  rapture.4  In  the 
melodious  series  of  love-poems  entitled  Eridanus,  he 
exercises  the  same  imaginative  faculty  on  Lombard 
scenery.  After  closing  this  little  book,  we  seem  to  be 
no  less  familiar  with  the  n  king  of  rivers,"  Phaethon,  and 

i  For  such  glimpses  into  actual  life,  see  Lepidina,  pp.  160-174,  in 
which  a  man  and  woman  of  Naples  discourse  of  their  first  loves  and 
wedlock.  The  Eclogues  abound  in  similar  material. 

8  Lepidina,  p.  168.  Capimontius  is  easily  recognized  as  Capo  di 
Monte. 

•  See  De  Hortis  Hesperidum,  p,  139,  and  Amorum,  lib.  ii.  p.  33. 

*  Versus  Lyrici,  pp.  91-94. 


PONTANO'S   MYTHO-POETRY.  2IQ 

the  Heliades,  than  with  the  living  Stella,  to  frame  whose 
beauty  in  a  fitting  wreath  these  fancies  have  been 
I  woven.1  Even  the  Elegy,  which  he  used  so  freely 
and  with  so  complete  a  pleasure  in  its  movement, 
becomes  for  him  aN  woman,  with  specific  form  and  habit, 
and  a  love  tale  taken  from  some  Propertian  memory 
of  the  poet's  Umbrian  home.  To  quote  Pontano 
is  neither  easy  nor  desirable.  Yet  I  cannot  resist 
the  inclination  to  present  Dame  Elegia  in  her  Ionian 
garb  in  part  at  least  before  a  modern  audience.2 

Hue  ades,  et  nitidum  myrto  compesce  capillum, 

Hue  ades  ornatis  o  Elegia  comis. 
Inque  novam  venias  cultu  praedivite  formam, 

Laxa  fluat  niveos  vestis  adusque  pedes. 

1  See,  for  example,  the  elegy  "  De  Venere  lavante  se  in  Eridano  et 
quiescente,"  Erid.  lib.  i.  p.  118. 

2  De  Amore  Conjugali,  lib.  i.  p.  35.     "  Hither,  and  bind  with  myrtle 
thy  shining  hair!     O  hither,  Elegia,  with  the  woven  tresses!    Take  a 
new  form  of  sumptuous  grace,  and  let  thy  loose  robe  nutter  to  thy  snow- 
white  feet.    And  where  thou  movest,  breathe  Arabian  nard,  and  bland- 
est perfume  of  Assyrian  unguents.    Let  the  girl  Graces  come,  thy  charge, 
with  thee,  and  take  their  joy  in  dances  woven  with  unwonted  arts.    Thou 
in  his  earliest  years  dost  teach  the  boy  of  Venus,  and  instruct  him  in  thy 
lore.     Wherefore  Cytherea  gives  thee  perpetual  youth,  that  never  may 
thy  beauty  suffer  decrease.     Come  hither,  then,  and  take,  O  goddess, 
thy  lyre,  but  with  a  gentle  quill,  and  move  the  soft  strings  to  a  dulcet 
sound.     Nay,  thou  thyself  hast  tried  new  pleasures,  and  knowest  the 
sweet  thefts  of  lovers  laid  on  meadow  grass.     For  they  say  that,  wan- 
dering once  in  Umbria,  my  home,  thou  didst  lie  down  beside  Clitumnus* 
liquid  pools;  and  there  didst  see  a  youth,  and  dote  upon  him  while  he 
swam,  and  long  to  hold  him  in  thine  arms.    What  dost  thou,  beauteous 
boy,  beneath  the  wanton  waves  ?     These  fields  are  better  suited  to  thy 
joys!     Here  canst  thou  weave  a  violet  wreath,  and  bind  thy  yellow  hair 
with  flowers  of  many  a  hue!    Here  canst  thou  sleep  beneath  cool  shade, 
and  rest  thy  body  on  the  verdant  ground!     Here  join  the  dances  of  the 
Dryads,  and  leap  along  the  sward,  and  move  thy  supple  limbs  to  tender 
music!    The  youth  inflamed  with  this,  and  eager  for  the  beauty  and 
the  facile  song,  wherewith  thou  captivatest  gods,  with  thee  among  the 
willows,  under  a  vine-mantled  elm,  joined  his  white  limbs  upon  a  grassy 
bed,  and  both  enjoyed  the  bliss  of  love." 


220  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Quaque  moves,  Arabum  spires  mollissima  nardum, 

Lenis  et  Assyrio  sudet  odore  liquor. 
Tecum  etiam  Charites  veniant,  tua  cura,  puellae, 

Et  juvet  insolita  ducere  ab  arte  chores. 
Tu  puerum  Veneris  primis  lasciva  sub  annis 

Instruis,  et  studio  perficis  usque  tuo. 
Hinc  tibi  perpetuae  tribuit  Cytherea  juventae 

Tempora,  neu  formae  sint  mala  damna  tuae; 
Ergo  ades,  et  cape,  diva,  lyram,  sed  pectine  molli, 

Sed  moveas  dulci  lenia  fila  sono. 
Quinetiam  tu  experta  novos,  ni  fallor,  amores, 

Dulcia  supposito  gramine  furta  probas. 
Namque  ferunt,  patrios  vectam  quandoque  per  Umbros, 

Clitumni  liquidis  accubuisse  vadis: 
Hie  juvenem  vidisse,  atque  incaluisse  natantem, 

Et  cupisse  ulnas  inter  habere  tuas. 
Quid  tibi  lascivis,  puer  o  formose,  sub  undis  ? 

Deliciis  mage  sunt  commoda  prata  tuis. 
Hie  potes  e  molli  viola  junxisse  coronam, 

Et  flavam  vario  flore  ligare  comam; 
Hie  potes  et  gelida  somnum  quaesisse  sub  umbra, 

Et  lassum  viridi  ponere  corpus  humo; 
Hie  et  adesse  choris  Dryadum,  et  saluisse  per  herbas, 

Molliaque  ad  teneros  membra  movere  modos. 
Hie  juvenis  succensus  amor,  formamque  secutus 

Et  facilem  cantum,  quo  capis  ipsa  deos, 
Tecum  inter  salices,  sub  amicta  vitibus  ulmo, 

In  molli  junxit  Candida  membra  toro; 
Inter  et  amplexus  lassi  jacuistis  uterque, 

Et  repetita  venus  dulce  peregit  opus. 

That  this  poet  was  no  servile  imitator  of  Tibullus  or 
Ovid  is  clear.  That  he  had  not  risen  to  their  height 
of  diction  is  also  manifest.  But  in  Pontano,  as  in 
Poliziano,  Latin  verse  lived  again  with  new  and  genuine 
vitality. 

If  it  were  needful  to  seek  a  formal  return  from  this 
digression  to  the  subject  of  my  chapter  there  would  be 
no  lack  of  opportunity.  Pontano's  Eclogues,  the  de- 
scription of  his  gardens,  his  vision  of  the  golden  age 


PONTANO'S   PA.   CORALS.  22 


and  his  long  discourse  on  the  cultivation  of  orange  trees, 
justify  our  placing  him  among  the  strictly  pastoral 
poets.1  In  treating  of  the  country  he  displays  his 
usual  warmth  and  sensuous  realism.  He  mythologizes ; 
but  his  myths  are  the  substantial  forms  of  genuine 
emotion  and  experience.  The  Fauns  he  talks  of,  are 
such  lads  as  even  now  may  be  seen  upon  the  Ischian 
slopes  of  Monte  Epomeo,  with  startled  eyes,  brown 
skin,  and  tangled  tresses  tossed  adown  their  sinewy 
shoulders.  The  Bacchus  of  his  vintage  has  walked, 
red  from  the  wine-press,  crowned  with  real  ivy  and 
vine,  and  sat  down  at  the  poet's  elbow,  to  pledge  him 
in  a  cup  of  foaming  must. 

While  Sannazzaro  was  exploring  Arcadia  at  Naples, 
Poliziano  had  already  transferred  pastoral  poetry  to  the 
theater  at  Mantua.  Of  the  Orfeo  and  its  place  in 
Italian  literature,  I  have  spoken  sufficiently  elsewhere. 
It  is  enough  to  remember,  in  the  present  connection, 
that,  while  Arcady  became  the  local  dreamland  of  the 
new  ideal,  Orpheus  took  the  place  of  its  hero.  As  the 
institutor  of  civil  society  in  the  midst  of  a  rude  popula- 
tion, he  personified  for  our  Italian  poets  the  spirit  of 
their  own  renascent  culture.  Arcadia  represented  the 
realm  of  art  and  song,  unstirred  by  warfare  or  un- 
worthy passions.  Orpheus  attuned  the  simple  souls 
who  dwelt  in  it,  to  music  with  his  ravishing  lyre. 

Pastoral  representations  soon  became  fashionable. 
Niccolo  da  Correggio  put  the  tale  of  Cephalus  and  Pro- 
cr^i  on  the  stage  at  Ferrara,  with  choruses  of  nymphs, 

1  I  will  only  refer  in  detail  to  the  elegy  entitled  "  Laetatur  in  villa  et 
hortis  suis  constitutis  "  (De  Amore  Conjugate,  lib.  ii.  p.  52).  The  two 
books  De  Hortis  Hesperidum  (Aldus,  1513,  pp.  138-159),  compose  a 
typical  didactic  poem. 


! 

223  RENAIS  MNCE   IN  ITALY. 

vows  to  Diana,  eclogues  between  Corydon  and  Thyr- 
sis,  a  malignant  Faun,  and  a  dea  ex  machinA  to  close 
the  scene.1  At  Urbino  in  the  carnival  of  i5o6  Bal- 
dassare  Castiglione  and  his  friend  Cesare  Gonzaga 
recited  amoebean  stanzas,  attired  in  pastoral  dress,  be- 
fore the  Court.  This  eclogue,  entitled  Tirsi,  deserves 
notice,  less  perhaps  for  its  intrinsic  merits,  though 
these,  judged  by  the  standard  of  bucolic  poetry,  are  not 
slight,  than  because  it  illustrates  the  worst  vices  of  the 
rustic  style  in  its  adaptation  to  fashionable  usage.2 
The  dialogue  opens  with  the  customary  lament  of  one 
love-lorn  shepherd  to  another,  and  turns  upon  time- 
honored  bucolic  themes,  until  the  mention  of  Metau- 
rus  reminds  us  that  we  are  not  really  in  Arcadia  but 
at  Urbino.  The  goddess  who  strays  among  her 
nymphs  along  its  bank,  is  no  other  than  the  Duchess, 
attended  by  Emilia  Pia  and  the  other  ladies  of  her 
Court.  "  The  good  shepherd,  who  rules  these  happy 
fields  and  holy  lands,"  is  Duke  Guidubaldo.  Then  follow 
compliments  to  all  the  interlocutors  of  the  Cortegiano. 
Bembo  is  the  shepherd,  "  who  hither  came  from  the 
bosom  of  Hadria."  The  "  ancient  shepherd,  honored 
by  all,  who  wears  a  wreath  of  sacred  laurel,"  is  Morello 
da  Ortona.  The  Tuscan  shepherd,  "  wise  and  learned 
in  all  arts,"  must  either  be  Bernardo  Accolti  or  else 
Giuliano  de'  Medici.  And  yonder  shepherd  from  the 
Mincio  is  Lodovico  da  Canossa.  A  chorus  of  shep- 
herds and  a  morris-danee  relieved  the  recitation,  which 
was  also  enlivened  by  the  introduction  of  one  solo, 

1  It  was  printed  in  1486. 

»  See  the  Poesie   Volgari  e  Latine  del  Conte  B.  Castiglione  (Roma, 
1760),  pp.  7-26. 


PASTORAL    PLAYS,    THE    TIRSI.  223    , 

sung  by   Tola.     Thus    in   this   early   specimen  of  the! 
pastoral   mask   we    observe   that   confusion   of  things 
real  and  things  ideal,  of  past  and  present,  of  imaginary  * 
rustics   and   living   courtiers,    which   was   destined   to 
prove  the  bane  of  the  species  and  to  render  it  a  literary 
plague   in  every  European  capital.     The  radical  fault 
existed  in   Virgil's   treatment   of  the   Syracusan  idyl. 
But  each  remove  from  its  source  rendered  the  false- 
hood   more    obnoxious.     In    Spenser's    Eclogues    the 
awkwardness  is  greater  than  in  Castiglione's.     Before 
Teresa  Maria  the  absurdity  was  more  apparent  than 
before   Elizabeth.     At  last  the  common   sense  of  the  t 
public  could  no  longer  tolerate  the  sham,  and  Arcadia, 
with    its    make-believe    and     flattery    and     allegory, 
became  synonymous  with  affectation. 

It  is  no  part  of  my  programme  to  follow  the  de- 
velopment of  the  pastoral  drama  through  all  its  stages 
in  Italy.1  For  the  end  of  this  chapter  I  reserve  certain 
necessary  remarks  upon  its  masterpieces,  the  Aminta 
and  the  Pastor  Fido.  At  present  it  will  suffice  to  in- 
dicate the  fact  that,  on  the  stage,  as  in  the  eclogue, 
bucolic  poetry  followed  two  distinct  directions — thej 
one  Arcadian  and  artificial,  the  other  national  and 
closely  modeled  on  popular  forms.  The  Nencia  da 

1  To  do  so  would  be  almost  impossible  within  lesser  limits  than  those 
of  a  bulky  volume.  Any  one  who  wishes  to  form  a  conception  of  the 
multitudes  of  pastoral  plays  written  and  printed  in  Italy,  may  consult  the 
catalogues.  I  have  before  me  one  list,  which  I  do  not  believe  to  be  com- 
plete, in  the  Teatro  Italiano,  vol.  x.  It  occupies  twenty-seven  closely- 
printed  pages,  and  is  devoted  solely  to  rural  scenes  of  actual  life.  The 
Arcadian  masks  and  plays  are  omitted.  Mutinelli,  in  the  Annali  Ur- 
bani  di  Venezia,  p.  541,  gives  a  list  of  the  shows  performed  at  Doges' 
banquets  between  1574  and  1605.  The  large  majority  are  pastoral;  and 
it  is  noticeable  that,  as  years  go  on,  the  pastorals  drive  all  other  forms 
of  drama  out  of  the  field. 


224  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Barberino  and  Beca  da  Dicomano  of  Lorenzo  de'  Med- 
ici and  Luigi  Pulci  belong  to  the  latter  class  of  eclogues.1 
Their  corresponding  forms  in  dramatic  verse  are 
Berni's  Catrina  and  Mogliazzo,  together  with  the 
Tancia  and  Fiera  of  Michelangelo  Buonarroti  the 
younger.2  If  it  is  impossible  to  render  any  adequate 
account  of  pastoral  drama,  to  do  this  for  bucolic  idyls 
would  be  no  less  difficult.  Their  name  in  Latin  and 
Italian  is  legion.  Poets  so  different  in  all  things  else 
as  were  Girolamo  Benivieni,  Antonio  Tebaldeo,  Spe- 
rone  Speroni,  Bernardino  Baldi,  Benedetto  Varchi, 
and  Luigi  Tansillo — to  mention  only  men  of  some 
distinction — brought  Mopsus  and  Tityrus,  Menalcas 
and  Melibaeus,  Amaryllis  and  Cydippe,  from  Virgil's 
Arcadia,  and  made  them  talk  interminably  of  their 
loves  and  sheep  in  delicate  Italian.3  Folengo's  sharp 
satiric  wit,  as  we  shall  remark  in  another  chapter,  finally 
pursued  them  with  the  shafts  of  ridicule  in  Baldus  and 
Zanitonclla.  Thus  pastoral  poetry  completed  the 
f  whole  cycle  of  Italian  literature — expressed  itself 
through  dialogue  in  the  drama,  adhered  to  Virgilian 
precedent  in  the  Latinists  and  their  Italian  followers, 
adopted  the  forms  of  popular  poetry,  and  finally  sub- 
mitted to  the  degradation  of  Maccaronic  burlesque. 

We  can  well  afford  to  turn  in  silence  from  the 
common  crowd  of  eclogue-writers,  Yet  one  poet 
emerges  from  the  rank  and  file,  and  deserves  particular 

attention.     Francesco  Maria  Molza  stood  foremost   in 

\. 

1  See  above,  Part  i.,  pp.  381,  382. 

»  For  Berni,  see  Barbara's  small  edition,  Florence,  1863.  For  Buon- 
arroti, Lemonnier's  edition  in  two  volumes,  1860. 

3  See  Poesie  Pastorali  e  Rusticali  (Milano,  Classici  Italiani,  1808), 
for  a  fairly  representative  collection  of  these  authors. 


ECLOGUES,    FRANCESCO   MOLZA.  225 

his  own  day  among  scholars  of  ripe  erudition  and 
literary  artists  of  accomplished  skill.  His  high  birth, 
his  genial  conversation,  his  loves  and  his  misfortunes 
rendered  him  alike  illustrious ;  and  his  Ninfa  Tibe- 
rina  is  still  the  sweetest  pastoral  of  the  golden  age\ 
Molza  was  born  in  1489  at  Modena.  Since  his  parents 
were  among  the  richelif  and  noblest  people  of  that  city, 
it  is  probable  that  he  acquired  the  Greek  and  Latin 
scholarship,  for  which  he  was  in  after-life  distinguished, 
under  tutors  at  home.  At  the  age  of  sixteen  he  went 
to  Rome  in  order  to  learn  Hebrew,  and  was  at  once 
recognized  as  a  youth  of  more  than  ordinary  promise 
by  men  like  Marcantonio  Flamminio  and  Lilio  Giraldi. 
In  i5i2  he  returned  to  Modena,  where  he  married 
according  to  his  rank.  His  wife  brought  him  four 
children,  and  he  passed  a  few  years  at  this  period  with 
his  family.  But  Molza  soon  wearied  of  domestic  and 
provincial  retirement.  In  i5i6  he  left  home  again  and 
plunged  into  the  dissipations  of  Roman  life.  From 
this  date  forward  till  his  death  in  1544  he  must  be 
reckoned  among  those  Italians  for  whom  Rome  was 
dearer  than  their  native  cities.  The  brilliance  of  his 
literary  fame  and  the  affection  felt  for  him  by  men  of 
note  in  every  part  of  Italy  will  not  distract  attention 
from  the  ignobility  of  his  career.  Faithless  to  his 
wife,  neglectful  of  his  children,  continually  begging 
money  from  his  father,  he  passed  his  manhood  in  a 
series  of  amours.  Some  of  these  were  respectable, 
but  most  of  them  disreputable.  A  certain  Furnia,  a 
low-born  Beatrice  Paregia,  and  the  notorious  Faus- 
tina Mancina  are  to  be'  mentioned  among  the  women 
who  from  time  to  time  enslaved  him.  In  the  course 


226  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

of  his  intrigue  with  Beatrice  he  received  a  stab  in  the 
back  from  some  obscure  rival,  which  put  him  in  peril 
of  his  life.  For  Faustina  he  composed  the  Ninfa 
Tiberina.  She  was  a  Roman  courtesan,  so  famous  for 
her  beauty  and  fine  breeding  as  to  attract  the  sympathy 
of  even  severe  natures.  When  she  died,  the  town 
went  into  mourning,  and  the  streets  echoed  with  ele- 
giac lamentations.  It  is  curious  that  among  Michel- 
angelo's sonnets  should  be  found  one — not,  however,  of 
the  best — written  upon  this  occasion.  While  seeking 
amusement  with  the  Imperias,  who  took  Aspasia's 
place  in  Papal  Rome,  Molza  formed  a  temporary 
attachment  for  a  more  illustrious  lady — the  beautiful 
and  witty  Camilla  Gonzaga.  He  passed  two  years, 
between  1623  and  162 5,  in  her  society  at  Bologna. 
After  his  return  to  Rome,  Molza  witnessed  the  miseries 
of  the  sack,  which  made  so  doleful  an  impression  on 
his  mind  that,  saddened  for  a  moment,  he  retired  like 
the  prodigal  to  Modena.  Rome,  however,  although 
not  destined  to  regain  the  splendor  she  had  lost, 
shook  off  the  dust  and  blood  of  1627  ;  and  there  were 
competent  observers  who,  like  Aretino,  thought  her 
still  more  reckless  in  vice  than  she  had  been  before. 
Molza  could  not  long  resist  the  attractions  of  the  Papal 
city.  In  1629  we  find  him  once  more  in  Rome, 
attached  to  the  person  of  Ippolito  de'  Medici,  and 
delighting  the  Academies  with  his  wit.  Two  years 
afterwards,  his  father  an.d  mother  died  on  successive 
days  of  August.  Molza  celebrated  their  death  in  one 
of  the  most  lovely  of  his  many  sonnets.  But  his  ill 
life  and  obstinate  refusal  to  settle  at  Modena  had  dis- 
inherited him;  and  henceforth  he  lived  upon  his  son 


MOLZA'S   LIFE   AND   LOVES.  227 

Camillo's  bounty.  To  follow  his  literary  biography  at 
this  period  would  be  tantamount  to  writing  the  history 
of  the  two  famous  Academies  delle  Virtu  and  de 
Vignaiuoli.  Of  both  he  was  a  most  distinguished 
member.  He  amused  them  with  his  conversation, 
recited  before  them  his  Capitoli,  and  charmed  them 
with  the  softness  and  the  sweetness  of  his  manners. 
Numbers  of  his  sonnets  commemorate  the  friendships 
he  made  in  those  urbane  circles. 

From  the  interchange,  indeed,  of  occasional  poems 
between  such  men  as  Molza,  Soranzo,  Gandolfo,  Caro, 
Varchi,  Guidiccioni,  and  La  Casa,  the  materials  for 
forming  a  just  conception  of  the  inner  life  of  men  of 
letters  at  that  epoch  must  be  drawn.  They  breathe  a 
spirit  of  gentle  urbanity,  enlivened  by  jests,  and  sad- 
dened by  a  sense,  rather  uneasy  than  oppressive,  of 
Italian  disaster.  The  moral  tone  is  pensive  and  re- 
laxed; and  in  spite  of  frequent  references  to  a  corrupt 
Church  and  a  lost  nation,  scarcely  one  spark  of  rage  or 
passion  flashes  from  the  dreamy  eyes  that  gaze  at  us. 
Leave  us  alone,  they  seem  to  say;  it  is  true  that 
Florence  has  been  enslaved,  and  the  shadow  of  dis- 
grace rests  upon  our  Rome;  but  what  have  we  to  do 
with  it?  And  then  they  turn  to  indite  sonnets  on 
Faustina's  hair  or  elegies  upon  her  modesty 1 ;  and 
when  they  are  tired  with  these  recreations,  meet  to- 
gether to  invent  ingenious  obscenities.2  It  was  in  the 
midst  of  such  trifling  that  the  great  misfortune  of 
Molza's  life  befell  him.  The  disease  of  the  Renaissance, 

1  Of  Molza's  many  sonnets  upon  this  woman  and  her  death,  see  es- 
pecially Nos.  cxi.  cxii. 

*  In  the  chapter  on  Burlesque  Poetry  I  shall  have  to  justify  this 
remark. 


228  RENAISSANCE    IN  ITALY. 

not  the  least  of  Italy's  scourges  in  those  latter  days  of 
heedlessness  and  dissolute  living,  overtook  him  in  some 
haunt  of  pleasure.  After  1639  he  languished  miserably 
under  the  infliction,  and  died  of  it,  having  first  suffered 
a  kind  of  slow  paralysis,  in  February  1644.  During 
the  last  months  of  his  illness  his  thoughts  turned  to  the 
home  and  children  he  had  deserted.  The  exquisitely 
beautiful  Latin  elegy,  in  which  he  recorded  the  misery 
of  slow  decay,  speaks  touchingly,  if  such  a  late 
and  valueless  repentance  can  be  touching,  of  his 
yearning  for  them.1  In  the  autumn  of  1643,  accor- 
dingly, he  managed  to  crawl  back  to  Modena;  and  it 
was  there  he  breathed  his  last,  offering  to  the  world 
as  his  biographer  is  careful  to  assure  us,  a  rare  example 
of  Christian  resignation  and  devotion.2  All  the  men 
of  the  Renaissance  died  in  the  odor  of  piety;  and 
Molza,  as  many  of  his  sonnets  prove,  had  true  religious 
feeling.  He  was  not  a  bad  man,  though  a  weak  one.j 
In  the  flaccidity  of  his  moral  fiber,  his  intellectual  and 
sesthetical  serenity,  his  confused  and  yet  contented 
conscience,  he  fairly  represents  his  age. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  choose  between  Molza's 
Latin  and  Italian  poems,  were  it  necessary  to  award 
the  palm  of  elegance  to  either.  Both  are  marked  by 
the  same  morbidczza,  the  same  pliancy,  as  of  acanthus 
leaves  that  feather  round  the  marble  of  some  Roman 
ruin.  Both  are  languid  alike  and  somewhat  tiresome, 
in  spite  of  a  peculiar  fragrajice.  I  have  sought  through 
upwards  of  360  sonnets  contained  in  two  collections  of 

1  See  Revival  of  Learning,  p.  488. 

•  The  best  Life  of  Molza  is  that  written  by  Pierantonio  Serassi,  Ber- 
gamo, 1747.  It  is  republished,  with  Molza's  Italian  poems,  in  the  series 
of  Classici  Italiani,  Milano,  1808. 


MOLZA'S  POETIC  QUALITY.  229 

his  Italian  works,  for  one  with  the  ring  of  true  virility, 
or  for  one  sufficiently  perfect  in  form  to  bear  trans- 
plantation. It  is  not  difficult  to  understand  their 
popularity  during  the  poet's  lifetime.  None  are  defi- 
cient in  touches  of  delicate  beauty,  spontaneous  images, 
and  sentiments  expressed  with  much  lucidity.  And  their 
rhythms  are  invariably  melodious.  Reading  them,  we 
might  seem  to  be  hearing  flutes  a  short  way  from  us 
played  beside  a  rippling  stream.  And  yet — or  rather, 
perhaps,  for  this  very  reason — our  attention  is  not 
riveted.  The  most  distinctly  interesting  note  in  them 
is  sounded  when  the  poet  speaks  of  Rome.  He  felt 
the  charm  of  the  seven  hills,  and  his  melancholy  was 
at  home  among  their  ruins.  Yet  even  upon  this  con- 
genial topic  it  would  be  difficult  to  select  a  single  poem 
of  commanding  power. 

The  Ninfa  Tiberina  is  a  monody  of  eighty-one 
octave  stanzas,  addressed  by  the  poet,  feigning  himself 
a  shepherd,  to  Faustina,  whom  he  feigns  a  nymph.  It 
has  nothing  real  but  the  sense  of  beauty  that  inspired 
it,  the  beauty,  exquisite  but  soulless,  that  informs  its 
faultless  pictures  and  mellifluous  rhythms.  We  are  in 
a  dreamworld  of  fictitious  feelings  and  conventional 
images,  where  only  art  remains  sincere  and  unaffected. 
I  The  proper  point  of  view  from  which  to  judge  these 
'  stanzas,  is  the  simply  aesthetic.  He  who  would  submit 
to  their  influence  and  comprehend  the  poet's  aim,  must 
come  to  the  reading  of  them  attuned  by  contemplation 
of  contemporary  art.  The  arabesques  of  the  Loggie, 
the  metal- work  of  Cellini,  the  stucchi  of  the  Palazzo  del 
Te,  Sansovino's  bass-reliefs  of  fruits  and  garlands, 
Albano's  cupids,  supply  the  necessary  analogues. 


230  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

Poliziano's  Giostra  demanded  a  similar  initiation.  But 
between  the  Giostra  and  the  Ninfa  Tiberina  Italian  art 
had  completed  her  cycle  from,  early  Florence  to  late 
Rome,  from  Botticelli  and  Donatello  to  Giulio  Romano 
and  Cellini.  The  freshness  of  the  dawn  has  been  lost 
in  fervor  of  noonday.  Faustina  succeeds  to  the  fair 
Simonetta.  Molza  cannot  "  recapture  the  first  fine 
careless  rapture"  of  Poliziano's  morning  song — so 
exuberant  and  yet  so  delicate,  so  full  of  movement,  so 
tender  in  its  sentiment  of  art.  The  volutfa  idillica, 
which  opened  like  a  rosebud  in  the  Giostra,  expands 
full  petals  in  the  Ninfa  Tiberina;  we  dare  not  shake 
them,  lest  they  fall.  And  these  changes  are  indicated 
even  by  the  verse.  It  was  the  glory  of  Poliziano  to 
have  discovered  the  various  harmonies,  of  which  the 
octave,  artistically  treated,  is  capable,  and  to  have  made 
each  stanza  a  miniature  masterpiece.  Under  Molza's 
treatment  the  verse  is  heavier  and  languid,  not  by 
reason  of  relapse  into  the  negligence  of  Boccaccio,  but 
because  he  aims  at  full  development  of  its  resources. 
He  weaves  intricate  periods,  and  sustains  a  single 
sentence,  with  parentheses  and  involutions,  from 
the  opening  of  the  stanza  to  its  close.  Given  these 
conditions,  the  Ninfa  Tiberina  is  all  nectar  and  all 
gold. 

After  an  exordium,  which  introduces 

La  bella  Ninfa  mia,  che  al  Tebro  infiora 
Col  pi6  le  sponde, 

Molza  calls  upon  the  shepherds  to  transfer  their  vows 
to  her  from  Pales.  She  shall  be  made  the  goddess  of 
the  spring,  and  claim  an  altar  by  Pomona's.  Here  let 


THE    NINFA    TIB  ERIN  A. 


231 


the  rustic  folk  play,  dance,  and  strive  in  song.  Hither 
let  them  bring  their  gifts.1 

Io  dieci  pomi  di  fin  oro  eletto, 
Ch1  a  te  pendevan  con  soave  odore, 
Simil  a  quel,  che  dal  tuo  vago  petto 
Spira  sovente,  onde  si  nutre  amore, 
Ti  sacro  umil;  e  se  n'  avrai  diletto, 
Doman  col  novo  giorno  uscendo  fuore, 
Per  soddisfar  in  parte  al  gran  disio, 
Altrettanti  cogliendo  a  te  gl'  invio. 

E  d*  ulivo  una  tazza,  ch'  ancor  serba 

Quel  puro  odor,  che  gia  le  diede  il  torno, 
Nel  mezzo  a  cui  si  vede  in  vista  acerba 
Portar  smarrito  un  giovinetto  il  giorno, 
E  si  '1  carro  guidar  che  accende  1'  erba, 
E  sin  al  fondo  i  fiumi  arde  d'  intorno, 
Stolto  che  mal  tener  seppe  il  viaggjo, 
E  il  consiglio  seguir  fedele  e  saggio! 

The  description  of  the  olive  cup  is  carried  over  the 
next  five  stanzas,  when  the  poet  turns  to  complain  that 
Faustina  does  not  care  for  his  piping.  And  yet  Pan 
joined  the  rustic  reeds;  and  Amphion  breathed  through 
them  such  melody  as  held  the  hills  attentive;  and 
Silenus  taught  how  earth  was  made,  and  how  the 

1  Ten  apples  of  fine  gold,  elect  and  rare, 
Which  hung  for  thee,  and  softest  perfume  shed, 
Like  unto  that  which  from  thy  bosom  fair 
Doth  often  breathe,  whence  Love  is  nourished, 
Humbly  I  offer;  and  if  thou  shalt  care, 
To-morrow  with  the  dawn  yon  fields  I'll  tread, 
My  great  desire  some  little  to  requite, 
Plucking  another  ten  for  thy  delight. 

Also  an  olive  cup,  where  still  doth  cling 
That  pure  perfume  it  borrowed  from  the  lathe, 
Where  in  the  midst  a  fair  youth  ruining 
Conducts  the  day,  and  with  such  woeful  scathe 
Doth  guide  his  car,  that  to  their  deepest  spring 
The  rivers  burn,  and  burn  the  grasses  rathe; 
Ah  fool,  who  knew  not  how  to  hold  his  way, 
Nor  by  that  counsel  leal  and  wise  to  stay! 


232  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

seasons  come  and  go,  with  his  sweet  pipings.  Even 
yet,  perchance,  she  will  incline  and  listen,  if  only  he 
can  find  for  her  some  powerful  charm.  Come  forth,  he 
cries,  repeating  the  address  to  Galatea,  leave  Tiber  to 
chafe  within  his  banks  and  hurry  toward  the  sea.  Come 
to  my  fields  and  caves l : 

A  te  di  bei  corimbi  un  antro  ingombra, 
E  folto  indora  d'  elicrisi  nembo 
L*  edera  bianca,  e  sparge  si  dolce  ombra, 
Che  tosto  tolta  a  le  verd'  erbe  in  grembo 
D'  ogni  grave  pensier  te  n'  andrai  sgombra; 
E  sparso  in  terra  il  bel  ceruleo  lembo, 
Potrai  con  1'  aura,  ch'  ivi  alberga  il  colle, 
Seguir  secure  sonno  dolce  e  molle. 

It  is  perilous  for  thee  to  roam  the  shores  where  Mars 
met  Ilia.  O  Father  Tiber,  deal  gently  with  sp  fair  a 
maiden.  It  was  thou  who  erewhile  saved  the  infant 
hope  of  Rome,  whom  the  she-wolf  suckled  near  thine 
overflow !  But  such  themes  soar  too  high  for  shepherd's 
pipings.  I  turn  to  Caro  and  to  Varchi.  Both  are 
shepherds,  who  know  how  to  stir  the  streams  of 
Mincius  and  Arethuse.  Even  the  gods  have  lived 
in  forest  wild,  among  the  woods,  and  there  Anchises 
by  the  side  of  Venus  pressed  the  flowers.  What  gifts 
shall  I  find  for  my  Faustina?  Daphnis  and  Moeris 
are  richer  far  than  I.  How  can  I  contend  with  them 
in  presents  to  the  fair?  And  yet  she  heeds  them 
not: 

1  White  ivy  with  pale  corymbs  loads  for  thee 
That  cave,  and  with  thick  folds  of  helichryse 
Gildeth  the  arch  it  shades  so  lovingly; 
Here  lapped  in  the  green  grass  which  round  it  lies, 
Thou  shalt  dismiss  grave  thoughts,  and  fancy-free 
Spread  wide  thy  skirt  of  fair  cerulean  dyes, 
And  with  the  wholesome  airs  that  haunt  the  hill, 
Welcome  sweet  soothing  sleep,  secure  from  ill. 


TALE    OF  EURYDICE.  233 

Tanto  d'  ogni  altrui  dono  poco  si  cura 
Questa  vaga  angioletta  umile  e  pura. 

My  passion  weighs  upon  me  as  love  weighed  on  Aris- 
tseus.  He  forgot  his  flocks,  his  herds,  his  gardens, 
even  his  beehives  for  Eurydice.  His  heartache  made 
him  mad,  and  he  pursued  her  over  field  and  forest. 
She  fled  before  him,  but  he  followed1 : 

La  sottil  gonna  in  preda  a  i  venti  resta, 
E  col  crine  ondeggiando  addietro  torna: 
Ella  piu  ch'  aura,  o  piu  che  strale,  presta 
Per  1'  odorata  selva  non  soggiorna; 
Tanto  che  il  lito  prencle  snella  e  mesta, 
Fatta  per  paura  assai  piu  adorna: 
Fende  Aristeo  la  vagha  selva  anch'  egli, 
E  la  man  parle  aver  entro  i  capegli. 

Tre  volte  innanzi  la  man  destra  spinse 
Per  pigliar  de  le  chiome  il  largo  invito; 
Tre  volte  il  vento  solamente  strinse, 
E  restb  lasso  senza  fin  schernito: 
Ne  stanchezza  perb  tardollo  o  vinse, 
Perche  tornasse  il  pensier  suo  fallito; 
Anzi  quanto  mendico  piu  si  sente, 
Tanto  s'  affretta,  non  che  il  corso  allente. 

1  Her  rippling  raiment,  to  the  winds  a  prey, 
Waves  backward  with  her  wavering  tresses  light; 
Faster  than  air  or  arrow,  without  stay 
She  through  the  perfumed  wood  pursues  her  flight; 
Then  takes  the  river-bed,  nor  heeds  delay, 
Made  even  yet  more  beautiful  by  fright; 
Threads  Aristaeus,  too,  the  forest  fair, 
And  seems  to  have  his  hands  within  her  hair. 

Three  times  he  thrust  his  right  hand  forth  to  clasp 
The  abuudance  of  her  curls  that  lured  him  on; 
Three  times  the  wind  alone  deceived  his  grasp, 
Leaving  him  scorned,  with  all  his  hopes  undone; 
Yet  not  the  toil  that  made  him  faint  and  gasp, 
Could  turn  him  from  his  purpose  still  unwon; 
Nay,  all  the  while,  the  more  his  strength  is  spent, 
The  more  he  hurries  on  the  course  intent. 


234  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

The  story  of  Eurydice  occupies  twenty- nine  stanzas, 
and  with  it  the  poem  ends  abruptly.  It  is  full  of 
carefully- wrought  pictures,  excessively  smooth  and 
sugared,  recalling  the  superficial  manner  of  the 
later  Roman  painters.  Even  in  the  passage  that 
describes  Eurydice's  agony,  just  quoted,  the  forest  is 
odorata  or  vagha.  Fear  and  flight  make  the  maiden 
more  adorna.  The  ruffian  Aristaeus  gets  tired  in  the 
chase.  He,  too,  must  be  presented  in  a  form  of 
elegance.  Not  the  action,  but  how  the  action  might 
be  made  a  groundwork  for  embroidery  of  beauty,  is 
the  poet's  care.  We  quit  the  Ninfa  Tiberina  with 
senses  swooning  under  superfluity  of  sweetness — as 
though  we  had  inhaled  the  breath  of  hyacinths  in  a 
heated  chamber./ 

Closely  allied  to  bucolic  stands  didactic  poetry. 
The  Works  and  Days  of  Hesiod  and  the  Georgics  of 
Virgil — the  latter  far  more  effectually,  however,  than 
the  former — determined  this  style  for  the  Italians. 
WeMiave  already  seen  to  what  extent  the  neo- Latin 
poets  cultivated  a  form  of  verse  that,  more  than  any 
other,  requires  the  skill  of  a  great  'artist  and  the  inspi- 
ration of  true  poetry,  if  it  is  to  shun  intolerable  tedium.1 
The  best  didactic  poems  written  in  Latin  by  an  Italian 
are  undoubtedly  Poliziano's  Sylvce,  and  of  these  the 
most  refined  is  the  Rusticus?  But  Poliziano,  in  com- 
posing them,  struck  out  a  new  line.  He  did  not  fol- 
low his  Virgilian  models  closely.  He  chose  the  form 
of  declamation  to  an  audience,  in  preference  to  the 
time-honored  usage  of  apostrophizing  a  patron.  This 

1  Revival  of  Learning,  chap.  viii. 
*  Ibid.  pp.  453-463. 


DIDACTIC   POETRY.  235 

relieves  the  Sylvfe  from  the  absurdity  of  the  poet's 
feigning  to  instruct  a  Memmius  or  Augustus,  a  Francis 
I.  or  Charles  V.,  in  matters  about  which  those  warriors 
and  rulers  can  have  felt  but  a  frigid  interest.  Pontano's 
Urania  and  De  Hortis  Hespcridum  are  almost  free 
from  the  same  blemish.  The  former  is  addressed  to 
his  son  Lucius,  but  in  words  so  brief  and  simple  that 
we  recognize  the  propriety  of  a  father  giving  this 
instruction  to  his  child.1  The  latter  is  dedicated  to 
Francesco  Gonzaga,  Marquis  of  Mantua,  who  receives 
complimentary  panegyrics  in  the  exordium  and,  perora- 
tion, but  does  not  interfere  with  the  structure  of  the 
poem.  Its  chief  honors  are  reserved,  as  is  right  and 
due,  for  Virgil2: — 

Dryades  dum  munera  vati 
Annua,  dum  magno  texunt  nova  serta  Maroni, 
E  molli  viola  et  ferrugineis  hyacinthis, 
Quasque  fovent  teneras  Sebethi  flumina  myrtos. 

Pontano's  greatness,  here  as  elsewhere,  is  shown  in  his 
mytho-poetic  faculty.  The  lengthy  dissertation  on  the 
heavens  and  the  lighter  discourse  on  orange-cultivation 
are  adorned  and  enlivened  with  innumerable  legends 
suggested  to  his  fertile  fancy  by  the  beauty  of  Neapo- 
litan scenery.  When  we  reach  the  age  of  Vida  and 
Fracastoro,  we  find  ourselves  in  the  full  tide  of  Vir- 
gilian  imitation3;  and  it  is  just  at  this  point  in  our 

i  Tu  vero  nate  ingentes  accingere  ad  orsus 
Et  mecum  illustres  cosli  spatiare  per  oras, 
Namque  aderit  tibi  Mercurius,  cui  coelifer  Atlas 
Est  avus,  et  notas  puerum  puer  instruct  artes. 
Ed.  Aldus  (1513),  p.  2. 

2  Ibid,  p,  138. 

3  See  Revival  of  Learning,  pp.  471-481,  for  notices  of  the  Pottica, 
Bombyces,  Scacchia  and  Syphilis. 


236  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

inquiry  that  the  transition  from  Latin  to  Italian  didac- 
tic poetry  should  be  effected. 

Giovanni  Rucellai,  the  son  of  that  Bernardo,  who 
opened  his  famous  Florentine  Gardens  to  the  Platonic 
Academy,  was  born  in  1476.  As  the  author  of  Ros- 
munda,  he  has  already  appeared  in  this  book.  When 
he  died,  in  i526,  he  bequeathed  a  little  poem  on 
Bees  to  his  brother  Palla  and  his  friend  Gian  Giorgio 
Trissino.  Trissino  and  Rucellai  had  been  intimate 
at  Florence  and  in  Rome.  They  wrote  the  Sofonisba 
and  Rosmunda  in  generous  rivalry,  meeting  from  time 
to  time  to  compare  notes  of  progress  and  to  recite  their 
verses.  An  eye-witness  related  to  Scipione  Ammirato 
how  "  these  two  dearest  friends,  when  they  were  to- 
gether in  a  room,  would  jump  upon  a  bench  and 
declaim  pieces  of  their  tragedies,  calling  upon  the 
audience  to  decide  between  them  on  the  merits  of  the 
plays." l  Trissino  received  the  MS.  of  his  friend's 
posthumous  poem  at  Padua,  and  undertook  to  see  it 
through  the  press.  The  Api  was  published  at  Venice 
in  1 53Q.2  What  remained  to  be  said  or  sung  about 
bees  after  the  Fourth  Georgic  ?  Very  little  indeed,  it 
must  be  granted.  Yet  the  Api  is  no  mere  translation 
from  Virgil;  and  though  the  higher  qualities  of  variety 
invention  and  imagination  were  denied  to  Rucellai, 
though  he  can  show  no  passages  of  pathos  to  compete 
with  the  Corycius  senex,  of  humor  to  approach  the 
battle  of  the  hives,  no  episode,  it  need  be  hardly  said, 
to  match  with  Pastor  Aristaus,  still  his  modest  poem 
is  a  monument  of  pure  taste  and  classical  correctness. 

1  See  Morsolin's  Giangiorgio  Trissino  (Vicenza,  1878),  p.  92. 
*  Ibid.  p.  245. 


RU CELL  A I  AND   ALAMANNI. 


237 


It  is  the  work  of  a  ripe  scholar  and  melodious  versifier, 
if  not  of  a  great  singer;  and  its  diction  belongs  to  the 
best  period  of  polite  Italian. 

The  same  moderate  praise  might  be  awarded  to 
the  more  ambitious  poem  of  Luigi  Alamanni,  entitled 
Coltivazione,  but  for  its  immoderate  prolixity.1  Ala- 
manni resolved  to  combine  the  precepts  of  Hesiod, 
Virgil  and  Varro,  together  with  the  pastoral  passages 
of  Lucretius,  in  one  work,  adapting  them  to  modern 
usage,  and  producing  a  comprehensive  treatise  upon 
farming.  With  this  object  he  divided  his  poem  into 
six  books,  the  first  four  devoted  to  the  labors  of  the 
several  seasons,  the  fifth  to  gardens,  and  the  sixth  to 
lucky  and  unlucky  days.  On  a  rough  computation, 
the  whole  six  contain  some  5,5oo  lines.  La  Coltivazi- 
one  is  dedicated  to  Francis  I.,  and  is  marred  by  in- 
ordinate flatteries  of  the  French  people  and  their  king. 
Students  who  have  the  heart  to  peruse  its  always 
chaste  and  limpidly  flowing  blank  verse,  will  be  re- 
warded from  time  to  time  with  passages  like  the 
following,  in  which  the  sad  circumstances  of  the  poet 
and  the  pathos  of  his  regrets  for  Italy  raise  the  style 
to  more  than  usual  energy  and  dignity2: 

Ma  qual  paese  e  quello  ove  oggi  possa, 
Glorioso  Francesco,  in  questa  guisa 
II  rustico  cultor  goderse  in  pace 
L'  alte  fatiche  sue  sicuro  e  lieto  ? 
Non  gik  il  bel  nido  ond'  io  mi  sto  lontano, 
Non  gia  1'  Italia  mia;  che  poiche  lunge 
Ebbe,  altissimo  Re,  le  vostre  insegne, 
Altro  non  ebbe  mai  che  pianto  e  guerra. 

1  See  Versi  e  Prose  di  Luigi  Alamanni,  2  vols.,  Lemonnier,  Firenze, 
1859.     This  edition  is  prefaced  by  a  Life  written  by  Pietro  Raffaelli. 

2  Op.  tit.  vol.  ii.  p.  210.     It  is  the  opening  of  the  'peroration  to 
Book  :. 


238  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

I  colti  campi  suoi  son  fatti  boschi, 
Son  fatti  albergo  di  selvagge  fere, 
Lasciati  in  abbandono  a  gente  iniqua. 

II  bifolco  e  '1  pastor  non  puote  appena 
In  mezzo  alle  cittk  viver  sicuro 

Nel  grembo  al  suo  signer;  che  di  lui  stesso 
Che  '1  devria  vendicar,  divien  rapina  .  .  . 
Fuggasi  lunge  omai  dal  seggio  antico 
L'  italico  villan;  trapassi  1'  alpi; 
Truove  il  gallico  sen;  sicuro  posi 
Sotto  1'  ali,  Signer,  del  vostro  impero. 
E  se  qui  non  avra,  come  ebbe  altrove 
Cosi  tepido  il  sol,  si  chiaro  il  cielo, 
Se  non  vedrk  quei  verdi  colli  toschi, 
Ove  ha  il  nido  piu  bello  Palla  e  Pomona; 
Se  non  vedri  quei  cetri,  lauri  e  mirti, 
Che  del  Partenopeo  veston  le  piagge; 
Se  del  Benaco  e  di  mill'  altri  insieme 
Non  saprk  qui  trovar  le  riVe  e  1'  onde' 
Se  non  1'  ombra,  gli  odor,  gli  scogli  ameni 
Che  '1  bel  liguro  mar  circonda  e  bagna; 
1  Se  non  1'  ampie  pianure  e  i  verdi  prati 
Che  '1  Po,  1'  Adda  e  '1  Tesin  rigando  infiora, 
Qui  vedrk  le  campagne  aperte  e  liete, 
Che  senza  fine  aver  vincon  lo  sguardo,  etc.1 

i  "  But  what  land  is  that  where  now,  O  glorious  Francis,  the  husband- 
man may  thus  enjoy  his  labors  with  gladness  and  tranquillity  in  peace  ? 
Not  the  fair  nest,  from  which  I  dwell  so  far  away;  nay,  not  my  Italy! 
She  since  your  ensigns,  mighty  king,  withdrew  from  her,  hath  had  naught 
else  but  tears  and  war.  Her  tilled  fields  have  become  wild  woods,  the 
haunts  of  beasts,  abandoned  to  lawless  men.  Herdsman  or  shepherd  can 
scarce  dwell  secure  within  the  city  beneath  their  master's  mantle;  for 
those  who  should  defend  them,  make  the  country  folk  their  prey.  .  .  . 
Let  Italy's  husbandman  fly  far  from  his  own  home,  pass  the  Alpine 
barrier,  seek  out  the  breast  of  Gaul,  repose,  great  lord,  beneath  thy 
empire's  pinions!  And  though  he  shall  not  have  the  sun  so  warm,  the 
skies  so  clear,  as  he  was  wont  to  have;  though  he  shall  not  gaze  upon 
those  green  Tuscan  hills,  where  Pallas  and  Pomona  make  their  fairest 
dwelling;  though  he  shall  not  see  those  groves  of  orange,  laurel,  myrtle, 
which  clothe  the  slopes  of  Parthenope;  though  he  shall  seek  in  vain  the 
banks  and  waves  of  Garda  and  a  hundred  other  lakes;  the  shade,  the 
perfume,  and'the  pleasant  crags,  which  Liguria's  laughing  sea  surrounds 
and  bathes;  the  ample  plains  and  verdant  meadows  which  flower  be- 


ALAMANNFS   LIFE. 


339 


Luigi  Alamanni  was  the  member  of  a  noble  Floren- 
tine family,  who  for  several  generations  had  been  devoted 
to  the  Medicean  cause.  He  was  born  in  1496,  and 
early  joined  the  band  of  patriots  and  scholars  who 
assembled  in  the  Rucellai  gardens  to  hear  Machia- 
velli  read  his  notes  on  Livy.  After  the  discovery  of 
the  conspiracy  against  Cardinal  Giulio  de'  Medici,  in 
which  Machiavelli  was  implicated,  and  which  cost  his 
cousin  Luigi  di  Tommaso  Alamanni  and  his  friend 
Jacopo  del  Diacceto  their  lives,  Luigi  escaped  across 
the  mountains  by  Borgo  San  Sepolcro  to  Urbino. 
Finally,  after  running  many  risks,  and  being  imprisoned 
for  a  while  at  Brescia  by  Giulio's  emissaries,  he  made 
good  his  flight  to  France.  His  wife  and  three  children 
had  been  left  at  Florence.  He  was  poor  and  miserable, 
suffering  as  only  exiles  suffer  when  their  home  is  such 
a  paradise  as  Italy.  In  1627,  after  the  expulsion  of 
the  Medici,  Luigi  returned  to  Florence,  and  took  an 
active  part  in  the  preparations  for  the  siege  as  well  as 
in  the  diplomatic  negotiations  which  followed  the  fall 
of  the  city.  Alessandro  de'  Medici  declared  him  a 
rebel ;  and  he  was  forced  to  avail  himself  again  of 
French  protection.  With  the  exception  of  a  few  years 
passed  in  Italy  between  1537  and  1640,  the  rest  of  his 
life  was  spent  as  a  French  courtier.  Both  Francis  I. 
and  Henri  II.  treated  him  with  distinction  and  bounty. 
Catherine  de  Medicis  made  him  her  master  of  the  house- 
hold; and  his  son  received  the  bishopric  of  Macon. 
In  1 5 56  he  died  at  Amboise  following  the  Court. 

Luigi  Alamanni  was  the  greatest  Italian  poet  of 
whose  services  Francis  I.  could  boast,  as  Cellini  was 

neath  the  waters  of  Po,  Adda,  and  Ticino;  yet  shall  he  behold  glad 
fields  and  open,  spreading  too  far  for  eyes  to  follow! " 


240  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

the  greatest  Italian  artist.  His  works  are  numerous, 
and  all  are  marked  by  the  same  qualities  of  limpid 
facility,  tending  to  prolixity  and  feebleness.  Sonnets 
and  canzoni,  satires,  romantic  epics,  eclogues,  transla- 
tions, comedies,  he  tried  them  all.  His  translation  of 
the  Antigone  deserves  commendation  for  its  style. 
His  Flora  is  curious  for  its  attempt  to  reproduce  the 
comic  iambic  of  the  Latin  poets.  If  his  satires  dealt 
less  in  generalities,  they  might  aspire  to  comparison 
with  Ariosto's.  As  it  is,  the  poet's  bile  vents  itself  in 
abstract  invectives,  of  which  the  following  verses  upon 
Rome  may  stand  for  a  fair  specimen l : 

Or  chi  vedesse  il  ver,  vedrebbe  come 
Piu  disnor  tu,  che  '1  tuo  Luter  Martino, 
Porti  a  te  stessa,  e  piu  gravose  some. 

Non  la  Germania,  no,  ma  1'  ozio  e  '1  vino, 
Avarizia,  ambizion,  lussuria,  e  gola 
Ti  mena  al  fin,  che  gia  veggiam  vicino. 

Non  pur  questo  dico  io,  non  Francia  sola, 
Non  pur  la  Spagna,  tutta  Italia  ancora 
Che  ti  tien  d'  eresia,  di  vizi  scola. 

E  chi  nol  crede,  ne  dimandi  ognora 
Urbin,  Ferrara,  1'  Orso,  e  la  Colonna, 
La  Marca,  il  Romagnuol,  ma  piu  chi  plora 

Per  te  servendo,  che  fu  d'  altri  donna. 

Alamanni  is  said  to  have  been  an  admirable  improvi- 
satore ;  and  this  we  can  readily  believe,  for  his  verses 

'  Vol.  i.  p.  251.  It  is  the  end  of  the  third  satire.  "He  who  saw 
truly,  would  perceive  that  thyself  brings  on  thee  more  dishonor  than  thy 
Martin  Luther,  and  heavier  burdens  too.  Not  Germany,  no,  but  sloth 
and  wine,  avarice,  ambition,  sensuality,  and  gluttony,  are  bringing  thee 
to  thy  now  near  approaching  end.  It  is  not  I  who  say  this,  not  France 
alone,  nor  yet  Spain,  but  all  Italy,  which  holds  thee  for  the  school  of 
heresy  and  vice.  He  who  believes  it  not,  let  him  inquire  of  Urbino, 
Ferrara,  the  Bear  and  the  Column,  the  Marches  and  Romagna,  yet 
more  of  her  who  weeps  because  you  make  her  serve,  who  was  once 
mistress  over  nations." 


.  ^ 

THE   AMINTA    AND    PASTOR   FIDO.     J*  241 


even  when  they  are  most  polished,  flow  with  a  placidity 
of  movement  that  betrays  excessive  ease. 

We  have  traced  the  pastoral  ideal  from  its  com- 
mencement in  Boccaccio,  through  the  Arcadia  of 
Sannazzaro,  Poliziano's  Orfeo,  and  the  didactic  poets, 
up  to  the  point  when  it  was  destined  soon  to  find  its 
perfect  form  in  the  Aminta  and  the  Pastor  Fido. 
Both  Tasso  and  Guarini  IrVecl  beyond  the  chronological 
limits  assigned  to  this  work.  The  Renaissance  was 
finished;  and  Italy  had  passed  into  a  new  phase  of 
existence,  under  the  ecclesiastical  reaction  which  is 
called  the  Counter-Reformation.  It  is  no  part  of  my 
programme  to  enter  with  particularity  into  the  history 
of  the  second  half  of  the  sixteenth  century.  And  yet 
the  subject  of  this  and  the  preceding  chapter  would  be 
incomplete  were  I  not  to  notice  the  two  poems  which 
combined  the  drama  and  the  pastoral  in  a  work  of  art 
no  less  characteristic  of  the  people  and  the  age  than 
fruitful  of  results  for  European  literature.  Great  trag- 
edy and  great  comedy  were  denied  to  the  Italians. 
But  they  produced  a  novel  species  in  the  pastoral 
drama,  which  testified  to  their  artistic  originality,  and 
led  by  natural  transitions  to  the  opera.  Poetry  was 
on  the  point  of  expiring ;  but  music  was  rising  to  take 
her  place.  And  the  imaginative  medium  prepared  by 
the  lyrical  scenes  of  the  Arcadian  play,  afforded  just 
that  generality  and  aloofness  from  actual'  conditions  of 
life,  which  were  needed  by  the  new  art  in  its  first 
dramatic  essays. 

It  would  be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  because  the 
form  of  the  Arcadian  romance  was  artificial,  it  could 
not  lend  itself  to  the  presentation  of  real  passion  when 


242  RENAISSANCE   IN'  ITALY. 

adapted  to  the  theater.  The  study  of  the  Aminta 
and  the  Pastor  Fido  is  sufficient  to  remove  this  mis- 
conception. Though  the  latter  is  the  more  carefully 
constructed  of  the  two,  the  plot  in  either  case  presents 
a  series  of  emotional  situations,  developed  with  re- 
fined art  and  expressed  with  lyrical  abundance.  The 
rustic  fable  is  but  a  veil,  through  which  the  ever- 
lasting lineaments  of  love  are  shown.  Arcadia, 
stripped  of  pedantry  and  affectation,  has  become  the 
ideal  world  of  sentiment.  Like  amber,  it  incloses  in 
its  glittering  transparency  the  hopes  and  fears,  the 
pains  and  joys,  which  flit  from  heart  to  heart  of  men 
and  women  when  they  love.  The  very  conventionality 
of  the  pastoral  style  assists  the  lyrical  utterance  of  real 
feeling.  For  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  both  Aminta 
and  the  Pastor  Fido  are  essentially  lyrical.  The  salt 
and  s'avor  of  each  play  are  in  their  choruses  and 
monologues.  The  dialogue,  the  fable  and  the  char- 
acters serve  to  supply  the  poet  with  motives  for  emo- 
tion that  finds  vent  in  song.  This  being  conceded, 
it  will  be  understood  how  from  their  scenes  a  whole 
world  of  melodrama  issued.  'Whatever  may  have 
been  the  subject  of  an  opera  before  the  days  of  Gluck, 
it  drew  its  life-blood  from  these  pastorals. 

The  central  motive  of  Aminta  and  the  Pastor 
Fido  is  the  contrast  between  the  actual  world  of  am- 
bition, treachery  and  sordid  strife,  and  the  ideal  world 
of  pleasure,  loyalty  and  tranquil  ease.  Nature  is  placed 
in  opposition  to  civil  society,  the  laws  of  honor  to  the 
laws  of  love,  the  manners  of  Arcadia  to  the  manners 
of  Italy.  This  cardinal  motive  finds  its  highest  utter- 
ance in  Tasso's  chorus  on  the  Age  of  Gold : 


NATURE   AND   HONOR. 


243 


O  bella  eta  dell'  oro, 

Non  gia  perche  di  latte 

Sen  corse  il  fiume,  e  stillb  mele  41  bosco; 

Non  perche  i  frutti  loro 

Dier  dall*  aratro  intatte 

Le  terre,  e  gli  angui  errar  senz'  ira  o  tosco; 

Non  perche  nuvol  fosco 

Non  spiegb  allor  suo  velo, 

Ma  in  primavera  eterna, 

Ch'  ora  s'  accende,  e  verna. 

Rise  di  luce  e  di  sereno  il  cielo; 

Ne  portb  peregrino 

O  guerra,  o  merce  agli  altrui  lidi  il  pino: 

Ma  sol  perche  quel  vano 
Nome  senza  oggetto, 
Quell'  idolo  d'  errori,  idol  d'  inganno, 
Quel  che  dal  volgo  insano 
Onor  poscia  fu  detto, 
Che  di  nostra  natura '1  feo  tiranno, 
Non  mischiava  il  suo  affanno 
Fra.le  liete  dolcezze 
Dell' amoroso  gregge; 
Ne  fu  sua  dura  legge 
Nota  a  quell*  alme  in  libertate  awezze: 
Ma  legge  aurea  e  felice, 
Che  Natura  scolpi,  "  S'  ei  piace,  ei  lice." 

The  last  phrase,  S'ei  piace,  ei  lice,  might  be  written  on 
the  frontispiece  of  both  dramas,  together  with  Dafne's 
sigh:  //  mondo   invecchia,   E  invecchiando   intristisce. 
\  Of  what  use  is  life  unless  we  love  ?v 

Amiam,  che  '1  sol  si  muore,  e  poi  rinasce; 

A  noi  sua  breve  luce 

S'  asconde,  e  '1  sonho  eterna  notte  adduce. 

The  girl  who  wastes  her  youth  in  proud  virginity,  pre- 
pares a  sad  old  age  of  vain  regret: 

Cangia,  cangia  consiglio/ 

Pazzarella  che  sei; 

Che  '1  pentirsi  da  sezzo  nulla  giova. 

It  is  the  old  cry  of  the  Florentine   Canti  and  Ballatc, 


244  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

"  Gather  ye  rose-buds  while  ye  may !  "  Di  doman  non 
c  2  certezza.  And  the  stories  of  Aminta  and  Pastor 
Fido  teach  the  same  lesson,  that  nature's  laws  cannot 
be  violated,  that  even  fate  and  the  most  stubborn 
bosoms  bow  to  love. 

Of  the  music  and  beauty  of  these  two  dramas,  I 
find  it  difficult  to  speak.  Before  some  masterpieces 
criticism  bends  in  silence.  We  cannot  describe  what 
must  be  felt.  All  the  melodies  that  had  been  grow- 
ing through  two  centuries  in  Italy,  are  concentrated  in 
their  songs.  The  idyllic  voluptuousness,  which  per- 
meated literature  and  art,  steeps  their  pictures  in  a 
golden  glow.  It  is  easy  enough  to  object  that  their 
apparent  simplicity  conceals  seduction,  that  their  sen- 
timentalism  is  unmanly,  and  their  suggestions  of  phy- 
sical beauty  effeminating:— 

Ma  come  Silvia  il  riconobhe,  e  vide 
Le  belle  guance  tenere  d'  Aminta 
Iscolorite  in  si  leggiadri  modi, 
Che  viola  non  e  che  impallidisca 
Si  dolcemente,  e  lui  languir  si  fatto, 
,  Che  parea  gii  negli  ultimi  sospiri 

Esalar  I1  alma;  in  guisa  di  Baccante, 
Gridando  e  percotendosi  il  bel  petto, 
Lascib  cadersi  in  sul  giacente  corpo; 
E  giunse  viso  a  viso,  e  bocca  a  bocca. 

This  passage  warns  us  that  an  age  of  cicisbei  and  cas- 
trati  has  begun,  and  that  the  Italian  sensuousness  has 
reached  its  final  dissolution.  Silvia's  kisses  in  Aminta,. 
Mirtillo's  kisses  in  Pastor.Fido,  introduce  a  new  refine- 
ment of  enervation.  Marino  with  his  Adone  is  not 
distant.  But,  while  we  recognize  in  both  these  poems— 
the  one  perfumed  and  delicate  like  flowers  of  spring,  the 
other  sculptured  in  pure  forms  of  classic  grace — evident 


COMPLETION   OF    THE    REACTION. 


245 


signs  of  a  civilization  sinking  to  decay;  though  we 
almost  loathe  the  beauty  which  relaxes  every  chord  of 
manhood  in  the  soul  that  feels  it;  we  are  bound  to 
confess  that  to  this  goal  the  Italian  genius  had  been 
steadily  advancing  since  the  publication  of  the  Filocopo. 
The  negation  of  chivalry,  mysticism,  asceticism,  is 
accomplished.  After  traversing  the  cycle  of  comedy, 
romance,  satire,  burlesque  poetry,  the  plastic  arts,  and 
invading  every  province  of  human  thought,  the  Italian 
reaction  against  the  middle  ages  assumes  a  final  shape 
of  hitherto  unapprehended  loveliness  in  the  Aminta 
and  the  Pastor  Fido.  They  complete  and  close  the 
Renaissance,  bequeathing  in  a  new  species  of  art  its 
form  and  pressure  to  succeeding  generations. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE     PURISTS. 

The  Italians  lose  their  Language — Prejudice  against  the  Mother  Tongue 
— Problem  of  the  Dialects  —  Want  of  a  Metropolis — The  Tuscan 
Classics — Petrarch  and  Boccaccio — Dante  Rejected — False  Attitude 
of  the  Petrarchisti — Renaissance  Sense  of  Beauty  unexpressed  in 
Lyric — False  Attitude  of  Boccaccio's  Followers — Ornamental  Prose — 
Speron  Sperone — The  Dictator  Bembo — His  Conception  of  the  Pro- 
blem— The  Asolani — Grammatical  Essay — Treatise  on  the  Language 
— Poems — Letters — Bembo 's  Place  in  the  Cortegiano — Castiglione  on 
Italian  Style — His  Good  Sense — Controversies  on  the  Language — 
Academical  Spirit — Innumerable  Poetasters — La  Casa — His  Life — // 
Forno — Peculiar  Melancholy — His  Sonnets — Guidiccioni's  Poems  on 
Italy — Court  Life — Caro  and  Castelvetro — Their  Controversies — Cas- 
telvetro  accused  of  Heresy — Literary  Ladies — Veronica  Gambara — 
Vittoria  Colonna — Her  Life — Her  Friendship  for  Michelangelo — Life 
of  Bernardo  Tasso — His  Amadigi  and  other  Works — Life  of  Gian- 
giorgio  Trissino — His  Quarrel  with  his  Son  Giulio — His  Critical 
Works— The  Italia  Liberata. 

It  was  the  misfortune  of  the  Italians  that,  when  culture 
had  become  national  and  the  revival  of  the  vulgar 
literature  had  been  effected,  they  found  themselves  in 
nearly  the  same  relation  to  their  own  language  as  to 
Latin.  After  more  than  a  hundred  years  absorbed  in 
humanistic  studies,  the  authors  of  the  fourteenth 
century  were  hardly  less  remote  than  the  Augustan 
classics;  and  to  all  but  ^Tuscans  their  diction  was 
almost  foreign.  At  the  beginning  of  the  cinque 
cento,  the  living  mother-tongue  of  Italy  which  Dante 
sought — the  Vulgare,  quod  superius  venabamur,  quod 
in  qualibet  redolct  civitate,  nee  cubat  in  ulla — was  still 


RESURGENCE    OF  ITALIAN.  247 

to  seek.  Since  the  composition  of  Dante's  essay  De 
Vulgari  Eloquio,  the  literary  activity  of  the  nation 
had,  indeed,  created  a  desire  for  some  fixed  standard 
of  style  in  modern  speech.  But  the  experiments  of 
the  quattro  cento  had  not  far  advanced  the  matter. 
They  only  proved  that  Tuscan  was  the  dialect  to 
imitate,  and  that  success  in  the  future  must  depend 
on  adherence  to  the  Tuscan  authors.  Hence  it  hap- 
pened that  Petrarch  and  Boccaccio  came  to  be  studied 
with  the  same  diligence,  the  same  obsequious  rever- 
ence, as  Cicero  and  Virgil.  Italian  was  written  with 
no  less  effort  after  formal  purity,  no  less  minute 
observance  of  rules,  than  if  it  had  been  a  dead  lan- 
guage. At  the  same  time,  as  a  consequence  of  this 
system,  the  vices  of  the  humanistic  style — its  tendency 
to  servile  imitation,  emptiness,  rhetorical  verbosity, 
and  preference  of  form  to  matter — were  imported  into 
the  vernacular  literature. 

While  noting  these  drawbacks,  which  attended  the 
resurgence  of  Italian  at  an  epoch  when  the  whole 
nation  began  to  demand  a  common  language,  we  must 
give  due  credit  to  the  sagacity  displayed  by  scholars 
at  that  epoch  in  grappling  with  the  problem  before 
them.  The  main  points  at  issue  were,  first,  to  over- 
come the  prejudice  against  the  mother  tongue,  which 
still  lingered  among  educated  people;  secondly,  to 
adjust  Italian  to  the  standards  of  taste  established  by 
the  humanistic  movement;  and,  thirdly,  to  decide 
whether  Tuscan  should  reign  supreme,  or  be  merged 
in  a  speech  more  representative  of  the  Italians  as  a 
nation.  Early  in  the  century,  the  battle  of  Italian 
against  Latin  was  practically  won.  There  remained 


248  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

no  obstinate  antagonism  to  a  purely  national  and 
modern  literature.  Still  the  type  to  which  this  litera- 
ture should  conform,  the  laws  by  which  it  should  be 
regulated,  were  as  yet  unsettled.  These  questions  had 
to  be  decided  by  intelligence  rather  than  by  instinct; 
for  the  Italians  possessed  no  common  medium  of  con- 
versation, no  common  opportunities  of  forensic  or 
parliamentary  debate.  That  insensible  process  where- 
by French  style  has  been  modeled  on  the  usages  of 
conversation,  and  English  style  has  been  adapted  to 
the  tone  of  oratory,  had  to  be  performed,  so  far  as 
this  was  possible,  by  conscious  analysis.  The  Italians 
were  aware  that  they  lacked  a  language,  and  they  set 
themselves  deliberately  to  remedy  this  defect.  These 
peculiar  circumstances  gave  a  pedantic  tone  to  the 
discussion  of  the  problem.  Yet  the  problem  itself  was 
neither  puerile  nor  pedantic.  It  concerned  nothing 
less  than  the  formation  of  an  instrument  of  self-ex- 
pression for  a  people,  who  had  reached  the  highest 
grade  of  artistic  skill  in  the  exercise  of  the  dead 
languages,  and  who,  though  intellectually  raised  to  an 
equality  of  culture,  were  divided  by  tenacious  local 
differences. 

That  Petrarch  and  Boccaccio  should  have  been 
chosen  as  models  of  classical  Italian  style,  was  not 
only  natural  but  inevitable.  Writers,  trained  in  the 
method  of  the  humanists,  required  the  guidance  of 
authoritative  masters.  Just  as  they  used  Cicero  and 
Virgil  for  the  correction  of  medieval  Latin,  so  Petrarch 
and  Boccaccio  were  needed  for  the  castigation  of  home- 
spun dialects.  Dante,  had  he  been  comprehended 
by  such  men,  would  not  have  satisfied  ears  educated 


PETRARCH  AND   BOCCACCIO. 


249 


in  the  niceties  of  Latin  versification;  nor  could  the 
builders  of  Ciceronian  perorations  have  revived  the 
simple  prose  of  the  Villani.  Petrarch  contented  their 
sense  of  polish ;  Boccaccio  supplied  them  with  intricate 
periods  and  cadences  of  numerous  prose.  Yet  the  choice 
was  in  either  case  unfortunate,  though  for  somewhat 
different  reasons. 

It  was  impossible  for  poets  of  the  sixteenth  century 
to  follow  Petrarch  to  the  very  letter  of  his  diction, 
without  borrowing  his  tone.  Consequently  these 
versifiers  affected  to  languish  and  adore,  wove  conceits 
and  complained  of  cruelty,  in  the  fashion  of  Vaucluse. 
Their  facile  mistresses  became  Lauras;  or  else  they 
draped  a  lay-figure,  and  wrote  sonnets  to  its  painted 
eyebrows.  The  confusion  between  literary  ceremony 
and  practical  experience  of  passion  wrought  an  ineradi- 
cable discord.  Authors  of  indecent  burlesques  penned 
Platonic  odes.  Bembo,  who  was  answerable  for  the 
Menta  in  its  Latin  form,  praised  his  mistress  Morosina 
in  polished  sonnets  and  elegiac  threnodies.  Firenz- 
uola  published  the  poems  to  Selvaggia  and  the  Capiiolo 
in  praise  of  a  specific  against  infamous  diseases.  La 
Casa  gratified  the  same  Academies  with  his  panegyric 
of  the  Oven  and  his  scholastic  exercises  in  a  meta- 
physical emotion.  Reading  these  diverse  compositions 
side  by  side,  we  wake  to  the  conviction  that  the 
Petrarchistic  counterfeits,  however  excellent  in  form, 
have  precisely  the  same  mediocrity  as  Sannazzaro's 
epic,  while  the  Bernesque  effusions  express  the  crudest 
temper  of  the  men  who  wrote  them.  The  one  class 
of  poems  is  redolent  of  affectation,  the  other  of  coarse 
realism.  The  middle  term  between  these  opposites  is 


250  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

wanting.  Nor  could  it  well  be  otherwise.  The  condi- 
tions of  society  in  the  sixteenth  century  rendered 
Petrarch's  sentiment  impossible.  His  melancholy, 
engendered  by  the  contest  between  passion  and  reli- 
gious duty,  had  become  a  thing  of  the  far  past.  The 
license  of  the  times  rendered  this  halting  between  two 
impulses  ridiculous,  when  no  man  was  found  to  ques- 
tion the  divine  right  of  natural  appetite.  Even  the 
reverential  attitude  assumed  by  Petrarch  as  a  lover, 
was  out  of  date ;  and  when  his  imitators  aped  it,  their 
insincerity  was  patent.  The  highest  enthusiasm  of 
the  Renaissance  revealed  itself  through  the  plastic  arts 
in  admiration  for  corporeal  beauty.  This  feeling,  while 
it  easily  degenerated  into  sensuality,  had  no  point  of 
contact  with  Petrarch's  medieval  Platonism.  Therefore 
the  tone  of  the  Petrarchisti  was  hypocritical,  and  the 
love  they  professed,  a  sham. 

We  have  a  further  reason  for  resenting  this  devo- 
tion to  a  poet  with  whose  habitual  mood  the  men  of 
that  age  could  not  sympathize.  We  know  that  they 
had  much  to  say  which  remained  buried  beneath  their 
fourteenth-century  disguises.  The  sincerity  of  feeling, 
the  fervid  passion  of  poets  like  Bembo,  Molza,  or  La 
Casa,  cannot  be  denied.  But  their  emotion  found  no 
natural  channel  of  expression.  It  is  not  without  irrita- 
tion that  we  deplore  the  intellectual  conditions  of  an 
age,  which  forced  these  artists  to  give  forth  what  they 
felt  in  one  of  two  equally  artificial  forms.  Between 
transcription  from  the  Latin  elegists  and  reproduction 
of  Petrarch  there  lay  for  them  no  choice.  Conse- 
quently, the  Renaissance  lacked  its  full  development 
upon  the  side  of  lyric  poetry.  The  secret  of  the  times 


LYRICAL    INADEQUACY.  251 

remained  unspoken — a  something  analogous  to  Vene- 
tian painting,  a  something  indicated  in  Firenzuola's 
and  Luigini's  dialogues  on  female  beauty,  a  something 
indirectly  presented  in  Ariosto's  episodes,  which  ought 
to  have  been  uttered  from  the  heart  in  song  by  men 
who  felt  the  loveliness  of  plastic  form.  Instead  of  this 
lyrical  expression  of  a  ruling  passion,  we  have  to  con- 
tent ourselves  with  pseudo-platonic  rhymes  and  with 
the  fervid  sensualities  of  Pontano's  elegiacs.  The 
sensibility  to  corporeal  beauty,  which  was  abundantly 
represented  by  Titian,  Lionardo,  Raphael,  Correggio, 
Michelangelo  in  art,  in  literature  was  either  shorn  of 
its  essential  freedom  by  the  limitations  of  conventional 
Platonism,  or  exaggerated  on  the  side  of  animalism  by 
imitation  of  erotic  Latin  poets.  Furthermore,  we  have 
some  right  to  regard  the  burlesque  obscenity  of 
academical  literature  as  a  partial  reaction  against  the 
hypocritical  refinements  of  the  Petrarchistic  mannerism. 
Thus  the  deepest  instinct  of  the  epoch,  that  which 
gave  its  splendor  to  the  painting  of  the  golden  age, 
found  no  spontaneous  utterance  in  lyric  verse. 

The  academical  study  of  Boccaccio  proved  disas- 
trous for  a  different  reason.  In  this  case  there  was  no 
division  between  the  master  and  his  pupils ;  for  we 
have  seen  already  that  the  author  of  the  Decameron 
anticipated  the  Renaissance  in  the  scope  and  tenor  of 
his  work.  But  he  supplied  students  with  a  false 
standard.  His  Latinizing  periods,  his  involved  con- 
struction of  sentences  and  oratorical  amplification  of 
motives  encouraged  the  worst  qualities  of  humanistic 
style.  Boccaccio  prevented  the  Italians  from  forming 
a  masculine  prose  manner.  Each  writer,  whatever 


252  RENAISSANCE    IN  ITALY. 

might  be  the  subject  of  his  work,  aimed  at  ornate 
diction.  Cumbrous  and  circuitous  phrases  were 
admired  for  their  own  sake.  The  simplicity  of  the 
Chronicles  was  abandoned  for  ponderous  verbosity,  and 
Machiavelli's  virile  force  found  no  successors  in  the 
crowd  of  academicians  who  dissected  the  Decameron 
for  flowers  of  rhetoric. 

Thus  the  efforts  of  the  purists  took  a  false  direction 
from  the  outset  both  in  prose  and  verse.  The  litera- 
ture which  aimed  at  being  national,  began  with 
archaistic  exercises ;  and  Italy,  at  the  moment  of 
attaining  self-consciousness,  found  herself,  without  a 
living  language,  forced  to  follow  in  the  steps  of 
antiquated  authors.  The  industry  and  earnestness  of 
the  disciples  made  their  failure  the  more  notable ;  for 
while  they  pursued  a  track  that  could  not  lead  to  aught 
but  mannerism,  they  plumed  themselves  upon  the 
soundness  of  their  method.  In  order  to  illustrate  the 
spirit  of  this  movement,  I  will  select  a  passage  from 
the  works  of  Speron  Sperone,  who  was  by  no  means 
the  least  successful  stylist  of  the  period.  He  is  de- 
scribing his  earlier  essays  in  the  art  of  writing  and  the 
steps  by  which  he  arrived  at  what  he  clearly  thought 
to  be  perfection l : 

"  Being  in  all  truth  desirous  beyond  measure  from 
my  earliest  years  to  speak  and  to  write  my  thoughts  in 
our  mother  tongue,  and  that  not  so  much  with  a  view 
to  being  understood,  which  lies  within  the  scope  of 
every  unlettered  person,  as  with  the  object  of  placing 

'  /  Dialoghi  di  Messer  Speron  Sperone  (Aldus,  Venice,  1542),  p. 
146.  The  passage  is  taken  from  a  Dialogue  on  Rhetoric.  I  have  tried 
to  preserve  the  clauses  of  the  original  periods. 


PEDANTIC   STUDY  OF  STYLE. 


253 


my  name  upon  the  roll  of  famous  men,  I  neglected 
every  other  interest,  and  gave  my  whole  attention  to 
the  reading  of  Petrarch  and  the  hundred  Novels;  in 
which  studies  having  exercised  myself  for  many  months 
with  little  profit  and  without  a  guide,  under  the  inspi- 
ration of  God  I  finally  betook  me  to  our  revered 
Master  Trifone  Gabrielli1;  by  whose  kindly  assist- 
ance I  arrived  at  perfect  comprehension  of  those 
authors,  whom,  through  ignorance  of  what  I  ought  to 
notice,  I  had  frequently  before  misunderstood.  This 
excellent  man  and  true  father  of  ours  first  bade  me 
observe  the  vocables,  then  gave  me  rules  for  knowing 
the  declension  and  conjugation  of  nouns  and  verbs  in 
Tuscan,  and  lastly  explained  to  me  articles,  pronouns, 
participles,  adverbs,  and  other  parts  of  speech;  so 
that,  collecting  all  that  I  had  learned,  I  composed  a 
grammar  for  myself,  by  following  the  which  while 
writing  I  so  controlled  my  style  that  in  a  short  space  of 
time  the  world  held  me  for  a  man  of  erudition,  and 
still  considers  me  as  such.  When  it  seemed  to  me 
that  I  had  taken  rank  as  a  grammarian,  I  set  myself, 
with  the  utmost  expectation  of  every  one  who  knew 
me,  to  the  making  of  verses ;  and  then,  my  head  full 
of  rhythms,  sentences  and  words  from  Petrarch  and 
Boccaccio,  for  a  few  years,  I  produced  things  that 
appeared  wonderful  to  my  judgment;  but  afterwards, 
thinking  that  my  vein  was  beginning  to  dry  up  (inas- 

1  Trifone  Gabrielli  was  a  Venetian,  celebrated  for  his  excellent  morals 
no  less  than  for  his  learning.  He  gained  the  epithet  of  the  Socrates  of 
his  age,  and  died  in  1549.  His  personal  influence  seems  to  have  been 
very  great.  Bembo  makes  frequent  and  respectful  references  to  him  in 
his  letters,  and  Giasone  de  Nores  wrote  a  magnificent  panegyric  of  him 
in  the  preface  to  his  commentary  on  Horace's  Ars  Poetica,  which  he 
professed  to  have  derived  orally  from  Trifone. 


254  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

much  as  words  frequently  failed  me,  and,  not  finding 
what  to  say  in  different  sonnets,  it  occurred  to  me  to 
rehandle  the  same  thoughts),  I  had  recourse  to  that 
which  all  the  world  does  now l ;  for,  using  the  greatest 
diligence,  I  composed  a  rhyming  dictionary  or  vocabu- 
lary of  Italian  phrases ;  in  the  which  I  classed  by  the 
alphabet  every  word  those  two  authors  had  used; 
moreover  I  collected  in  another  book  their  divers  ways 
of  describing  things,  as  day,  night,  anger,  peace,  hate, 
love,  fear,  hope,  beauty,  in  such  wise  that  not  a  single 
word  or  thought  came  from  me  which  had  not  its  pre- 
cedent in  their  sonnets  and  novels."  At  this  point 
Sperone  frankly  admits  that  his  practice  was  too 
slavish.  He  then  proceeds  to  tell  how  he  compared 
Petrarch's  Latin  with  his  vulgar  style  in  order  to  dis- 
cover the  correct  rules  of  Italian  versification.  "  Con- 
quered by  the  arguments  and  experiments  I  have 
described,  I  returned  to  my  earlier  studies ;  and  then, 
in  addition  to  continual  self-exercise  in  the  reading  of 
Petrarch  (which  by  itself  and  without  any  other  artifice 
may  procure  great  benefit),  by  fixing  my  mind  more 
diligently  than  before  upon  his  modes  of  diction,  I 
observed  (as  I  believed)  certain  qualities  pertaining 
in  an  eminent  degree  to  the  poet  and  also  the  orator ; 
which,  since  you  desire  it,  I  will  briefly  expound.  In 
the  first  place,  while  numbering  and  weighing  his 
words  one  by  one,  I  became  aware  that  I  discovered 
none  common  and  none-  base,  few  harsh,  all  clear,  all 

1  Sperone  probably  alludes  to  works  like  Minerbi's  Vocabulary  of 
words  used  by  Boccaccio  (Venice,  1535);  Luna's  Vocabolario  di  cinque 
mila  vocaboli  toschi  del  Furioso  Petrarca  Boccaccio  e  Dante  (Naples, 
1536);  Accarigi's  dictionary  to  Boccaccio  entitled  Ricchezze  delta  lingua 
volgare  (Venice,  1543);  and  so  forth. 


SERVITUDE    TO   MODELS. 


255 


elegant;  and  all,  moreover,  so  adapted  to  common  use 
that  one  might  have  supposed  he  had  selected  and 
accumulated  them  with  the  concurrence  of  all  Italy  in 
conclave.  Among  the  which  (like  stars  amid  the 
limpid  space  of  midnight)  some  few  shone  out  with 
special  luster;  for  some  part  ancient  words,  but  not 
unpleasing  through  their  age,  as  uopo,  unquanco, 
sovente;  for  some  part  beautiful  and  very  graceful 
words,  which  like  jewels  that  delight  the  eyes  of  all 
men,  are  only  used  by  gentle  and  high  intellects,  such 
as  gioia,  speme,  rai,  disio,  soggiorno,  belth,  and  others  of 
like  quality,  the  which  no  learned  tongue  would  utter, 
nor  hand  write,  unless  the  ear  consented.  Time  would 
fail  to  tell  in  detail  of  the  verbs,  adverbs,  and  other 
parts  of  speech,  which  make  his  verses  noble;  but  one 
thing  I  will  not  pass  in  silence,  namely  that,  when 
speaking  of  his  lady,  now  of  her  person,  now  of  her 
soul,  now  of  her  tears,  now  of  her  smile,  now  of  her 
movement,  now  of  her  taking  rest,  now  of  her  anger, 
now  of  her  pity,  and  now  of  her  age,  in  a  word  when 
describing  and  magnifying  her  alive  or  dead,  he  gener- 
ally avoids  the  proper  name  of  things,  and  by  some 
wonderful  art  adorns  each  thing  by  words  appropriate 
to  others,  calling  her  head  fine  gold  and  roof  of  gold, 
her  eyes  suns,  stars,  sapphires,  nest  and  home  of  love, 
her  cheeks  now  snow  and  roses,  now  milk  and  fire, 
rubies  her  lips,  pearls  her  teeth,  her  throat  and  breast 
now  ivory,  now  alabaster."  Halfway  up  this  Gradiis 
ad  Parnassum  we  are  forced  to  stop  and  take  deep 
breath.  Sperone  has  launched  the  theory  of  "  poetic 
diction,"  and  advances  boldly  to  its  extreme  conse- 
quences. We  need  not  follow  his  analysis  further 


256  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

into  particulars.  He  carries  it  through  the  several 
topics  of  tautology,  periphrasis,  antithesis,  and  pro- 
portion of  syllables  in  words  of  different  length; 
after  which  the  subject  of  prosody  proper  is  discussed. 
Having  finished  with  Petrarch,  he  then  proceeds  to 
render  the  same  account  of  his  studies  in  Boccaccio, 
observing  the  variety  and  choice  of  his  phrases,  but 
calling  special  attention  to  the  numbers  of  his  periods, 
and  winding  up  with  this  sonorous  sentence  on  prose 
architecture.  "  But  you  must  know  that  as  the  com- 
position of  prose  is  a  marshaling  of  the  sounds  of 
words  in  proper  order,  so  its  numbers  are  certain 
orders  in  their  syllables;  pleasing  the  ear  wherewith, 
the  art  of  oratory  opens,  continues  and  finishes  a 
period:  forasmuch  as  every  clause  has  not  only  a 
beginning  but  also  a  middle  and  an  end;  at  the  be- 
ginning it  puts  itself  in  motion  and  ascends;  in  the 
middle,  as  though  weary  with  exertion,  it  rests  upon 
its  feet  awhile;  then  it  descends,  and  flies  to  the  con- 
clusion for  repose." l 

What  is  admirable,  in  spite  of  pedantry  and 
servility,  in  this  lengthy  diatribe  is  the  sense  of  art 
as  art,  the  devotion  to  form  for  its  own  sake,  the 
effort  to  grapple  with  the  problems  of  style,  the 
writer's  single-hearted  seeking  after  perfection.  No- 
thing but  a  highly-developed  artistic  instinct  in  the 
nation  could  have  produced  students  of  this  type. 
At  the  same  time  we  feel  an  absence  of  spontaneity. 

1  It  should  be  mentioned  that  the  passage  I  have  paraphrased  is  put 
into  the  lips  of  Antonio  Broccardo,  a  Venetian  poet,  whose  Rime  were 
published  in  1538.  He  attacked  Bembo's  works,  and  brought  down 
upon  himself  such  a  storm  of  fury  from  the  pedants  of  Padua  and  Ve- 
nice that  he  took  to  his  bed  and  died  of  grief. 


RHETORIC   AND   CONCEITS. 


257 


and  the  tendency  to  aim  at  decorative  writino-  is 
apparent.  When  the  glow  of  discovery,  which  im- 
pelled Sperone  and  his  fellow-pioneers  to  open  a  way 
across  the  continent  of  literature,  had  failed;  when  the 
practice  of  their  school  had  passed  into  precepts,  and 
their  inventions  had  been  formulated  as  canons  of 
style;  nothing  remained  for  travelers  upon  this  path 
but  frigid  repetition,  precise  observance  of  conven- 
tional limitations,  and  exercises  in  sonorous  oratory. 
The  rhetoric  of  the  seventeenth  century  was  a  neces- 
sary outgrowth  of  pedantic  purism.  The  conceits  of 
Marini  and  his  imitators  followed  inevitably  from  a 
rigorous  application  of  rules  that  denied  to  poetry  the 
right  of  natural  expression.  It  may  be  urged  that  for 
a  nation  so  highly  sensitive  to  form  as  the  Italians, 
without  a  metropolis  to  mold  the  language  in  the 
process  of  development,  and  without  a  spoken  dialect 
of  good  society,  there  existed  no  common  school  of 
style  but  the  recognized  classics  of  Tuscany.1  When 
each  district  habitually  used  a  different  speech  for  pri- 
vate and  public  utterance,  men  could  not  write  as  they 
talked,  and  they  were  therefore  forced  to  write  by 
rule.  There  is  force  in  these  arguments.  Yet  the 

1  The  difficulty  is  well  put  by  one  of  the  interlocutors  in  Castiglione's 
dialogue  upon  the  courtier  (ed.  Lemonnier,  p.  41):  "Oltre  a  questo,  le 
consuetudini  sono  molto  varie,  ne  e  citta  nobile  in  Italia  che  non  abbia 
diversa  maniera  di  parlar  da  tutte  1'  altre.  Pero  non  vi  ristringendo  voi  a 
dichiarar  qual  sia  la  migliore,  potrebbe  1'uomo  attaccarsi  alia  bergamasca 
cosi  come  alia  fiorentina."  Messer  Federigo  Fregoso  of  Genoa  is  speak- 
ing, and  he  draws  the  conclusion  which  practically  triumphed  in  Italy: 
"  Parmi  adunque,  che  a  chi  vuol  fuggir  ogni  dubio  ed  esser  ben  sicuro, 
sia  necessario  proporsi  ad  imitar  uno,  il  quale  di  consentimento  di  tutti 
sia  estimato  buono  .  .  .  e  questo  (nel  volgar  dico),  non  penso  che  abbia 
da  esser  altro  che  il  Petrarca  e  '1  Boccaccio;  e  chi  da  questi  dui  si  dis- 
costa,  va  tentoni,  come  chi  cammina  per  le  tenebre  e  spesso  erra  la 
strada." 


258  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

consequences  of  a  too  minute  and  fastidious  study  of 
the  Tuscan  authors  proved  none  the  less  fatal  to  the 
freedom  of  Italian  literature;  and  what  is  more,  saga- 
cious critics  foresaw  the  danger,  though  they  were 
unable  to  avert  it. 

The  leader  in  this  movement,  acknowledged 
throughout  Italy  for  more  than  half  a  century  as 
dictator  in  the  republic  of  letters,  "  foster-father  of  the 
language"  (polio  della  lingua),  "guide  and  master  of  our 
tongue"  (guida  e  maestro  di  questa  lingua),  was  Pietro 
Bembo.1  Though  only  sixteen  years  junior  to  Angelo 
Poliziano,  whom  he  had  himself  saluted  as  "  ruler  of 
the  Ausonian  lyre,"  Bembo  outlived  his  master  for  the 
space  of  fifty-one  years,  and  swayed  the  literary  world 
at  a  period  when  Italian  succeeded  to  the  honors  of 
Latin  scholarship.2  He  was  a  Venetian.  This  fact 
is  not  insignificant,  since  it  clearly  marks  the  change 
that  had  come  over  the  nation,  when  the  scepter  of 
learning  was  transferred  to  the  northern  provinces, 
and  the  exclusive  privilege  of  correct  Italian  composi- 
tion was  shared  with  Tuscans  by  men  of  other  dialects.3 
In  his  early  youth  Bembo  had  the  good  sense  to  per- 
ceive that  the  mother  tongue  was  no  less  worthy  of 
cultivation  than  Greek  and  Latin.  The  arguments 

1  In  the  famous  passage  of  the  Furioso  where  Ariosto  pronounces 
the  eulogy  of  the  poets  of  his  day,  he  mentions  Bembo  thus  (Orl.  Fur. 
xlvi.  15). 

Pietro 

Bembo,  che  '1  purg.  e  dolce  idioma  nostro, 
Levato  fuor  del  volgar  uso  tetro, 
Quale  esser  dee,  ci  ha  co  '1  suo  esempio  mostro. 

8  See  Bern  bo's  elegy  on  Poliziano  quoted  by  me  in  the  Revival  of 
Learning,  p.  484. 

3  See  Revival  of  Learning,  p.  506,  for  the  transference  of  scholar- 
ship to  Lombardy. 


BEMBO'S   DICTATORSHIP. 


259 


advanced  by  Dante,  by  Alberti,  by  Lorenzo  de' 
Medici,  recurred  with  fresh  force  to  his  mind.  He 
therefore  made  himself  the  champion  of  Italian  against 
those  exclusive  students  who,  like  Ercole  Strozzi,  still 
contended  that  the  dead  languages  were  alone  worthy 
of  attention.1  He  also  saw  that  it  was  necessary  to 
create  a  standard  of  correct  style  for  writers  who  were 
not  fortunate  enough  to  have  been  born  within  the 
bounds  of  Tuscany.  Accordingly,  he  devoted  himself 
to  the  precise  and  formal  study  of  fourteenth-century 
literature,  polishing  his  own  Italian  compositions  with 
a  diligence  that,  while  it  secured  transparent  purity  of 
diction,  deprived  them  of  originality  and  impulse.  It 
is  said  that  he  passed  each  of  his  works  through  forty 
successive  revisions,  keeping  as  many  portfolios'  to 
represent  the  stages  at  which  they  had  arrived. 

Having  already  sketched  the  life  of  Bembo,  I 
shall  here  restrict  myself  to  remarks  upon  those  of  his 
works  which  were  influential  in  reviving  the  practice 
of  Italian  composition.2  Among  these  the  first  place 
must  be  awarded  to  Gli  Asolani,  a  dialogue  on  Love, 
written  in  his  early  manhood  and  dedicated  to  Lucrezia 
Borgia.  The  beauty  of  its  language  and  the  interest 
of  the  theme  discussed  rendered  this  treatise  widely 
fashionable.  Yet  it  is  not  possible  to  study  it  with 
pleasure  now.  Those  Platonic  conversations,  in  which 
the  refined  society  of  the  Italian  Courts  delighted,  have 

1  See  the  Latin  hendecasyllables  quoted  by  me  in  the  Revival  of 
Learning,  p.  415,  and  the  Defense  of  Italian  in  the  treatise  "Delia  vol- 
gare  Lingua  "  (Bembo,  Opere,  Milan,  Class.  It.  x.  28).  Carducci  in  his 
essay  Delle  Poesie  Latine  di  Ludovico  Ariosto,  pp.  179-181,  gives  some 
interesting  notices  of  Ercole  Strozzi's  conversion  to  the  vulgar  tongue. 

*  See  Revival  of  Learning,  pp.  410-415,  481-485. 


260  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

lost  their  attraction  for  us.  Nothing  but  the  charming 
description  of  Asolo,  where  the  Queen  of  Cyprus  had 
her  garden,  surrounded  by  trimmed  laurels  and  divided 
crosswise  with  a  leafy  pergola  of  vines,  retains  its 
freshness.  That  picture,  animated  by  the  figures  of 
the  six  novitiates  of  Love,  now  sauntering  through 
shade  and  sunlight  under  the  vine-branches,  now 
seated  on  the  grass  to  hear  a  lute  or  viol  deftly 
touched,  is  in  the  best  idyllic  style  of  the  Venetian 
masters.  At  the  Court  of  Urbino,  where  Bembo  was 
residing  when  his  book  appeared,  it  was  received  with 
acclamation,  as  a  triumph  of  divine  genius.  The  illus- 
trious circle  celebrated  by  Castiglione  in  his  Cortegiano 
perused  it  with  avidity,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  the 
publication  gave  a  powerful  impulse  to  Italian  studies. 
These  were  still  further  fostered  by  Bembo's  Defense 
of  the  Vulgar  Tongue.1  He  had  secured  the  hearing 
of  the  world  by  his  Asolani.  Women  and  the  leaders 
of  fashionable  society  were  with  him;  and  he  pushed 
his  arguments  home  against  the  Latinizing  humanists. 
"  To  abandon  our  own  language  for  another,"  he  re- 
minded them,  "  is  the  same  as  withdrawing  supplies 
from  our  mother  to  support  a  strange  woman."  This 
phrase  is  almost  identical  with  what  Dante  had  written 
on  the  same  topic  two  centuries  earlier.  But  Bembo's 
standing-ground  was  different  from  Dante's.  The 
poet  of  the  fourteenth  century  felt  called  to  create  a 
language  for  his  nation.  .The  student  of  the  sixteenth, 
imbued  with  the  assimilative  principles  of  scholarship, 
too  fastidious  to  risk  a  rough  note  in  his  style,  too 
feeble  to  attempt  a  new  act  of  creation,  was  content  to 

»  Opere  del  Cardinale  Bembo  (Class.  If.  Milano,  1808,  vol  x.). 


BEMBO'S   STUDIES   OF  STYLE.  261 

"  affect  the  fame  of  an  imitator." l  His  piety  toward 
the  mother-tongue  was  generous;  his  method  of  re- 
habilitation was  almost  servile. 

With  the  view  of  illustrating  his  practice  by  pre- 
cepts, Bembo  published  a  short  Italian  grammar,  or 
compendium  of  Regole  Grammaticali.  It  went  through 
fourteen  editions,  and  formed  the  text-book  for  future 
discussions  of  linguistic  problems.  Though  welcomed 
with  enthusiasm,  this  first  attempt  to  reduce  Italian  to 
system  was  severely  criticised,  especially  by  Sannazzaro, 
Caro,  Castelvetro  and  the  Florentine  Academy. 

I  have  already  had  occasion  to  observe  that,  as  a 
Latin  poet,  Bembo  succeeded  best  with  memorial 
verses.  The  same  may  be  said  about  his  Italian 
poems.  The  Canzoni  on  the  death  of  his  brother,  and 
that  on  the  death  of  his  mistress  Morosina,  are  justly 
celebrated  for  their  perfection  of  form;  nor  are  they 
so  wanting  in  spontaneous  emotion  as  many  of  his 
Petrarchistic  exercises.  Bembo  was  tenderly  attached 
to  this  Morosina,  whom  he  first  met  at  Rome,  and  with 
whom  he  lived  till  her  death  at  Padua  in  i525.  She 
was  the  mother  of  his  three  children,  Lucilio,  Torquato 
and  Elena.  The  Canzone  in  question,  beginning : 

Donna,  de'  cui  begli  occhi  alto  diletto: 

was  written  so  late  as  1639,  three  months  after  Bembo 
had  been  raised  to  the  dignity  of  Cardinal.2  As  a 
specimen  of  the  conceits  which  he  tolerated  in  poetry, 
I  have  thought  it  worth  while  to  present  the  following 
translation  of  a  sonnet 3 : 

i  See  his  Latin  treatise  De  Imitatione.    It  is  in  the  form  oi  an  epistle. 
*  See  Panizzi,  Boiardo  ed  Ariosto,  vi.  Ixxxi. 
3  Sonnet  xxxvi.  of  his  collected  poems. 


26 2  RENAISSANCE    IN  ITALY. 

Ah  me,  at  one  same  moment  forced  to  cry 

And  hush,  to  hope  and  fear,  rejoice  and  grieve, 

The  service  of  one  master  seek  and  leave, 

Over  my  loss  laugh  equally  and  sigh! 
My  guide  I  govern;  without  wings  I  fly; 

With  favoring  winds,  to  rocks  and  sandbanks  cleave; 

Hate  haughtiness,  yet  meekness  disbelieve; 

Mistrust  all  men,  nor  on  myself  rely. 
I  strive  to  stay  the  sun,  set  snows  on  fire; 

Yearn  after  freedom,  run  to  take  the  yoke: 

Defend  myself  without,  but  bleed  within; 
Fall,  when  there's  none  to  lift  me  from  the  mire; 

Complain,  when  plaints  are  vain,  of  fortune's  stroke; 

And  power,  being  powerless,  from  impuissance  win. 

In  the  sixteenth  century  verses  of  this  stamp 
passed  for  masterpieces  of  incomparable  elegance. 
The  same  high  value  was  set  on  Bembo's  familiar 
letters.  He  wrote  them  with  a  view  to  publication, 
and  they  were  frequently  reprinted  during  the  course 
of  the  next  fifty  years.1  These  may  still  be  read  with 
profit  by  students  for  the  light  they  cast  upon  Italian 
society  during  the  first  half  of  the  cinque  cento,  and 
with  pleasure  by  all  who  can  appreciate  the  courtesies 
of  refined  breeding  expressed  in  language  of  fastidious 
delicacy.  The  chief  men  of  the  day,  whether  Popes, 
princes,  Cardinals  or  poets,  and  all  the  illustrious  ladies, 
including  Lucrezia  Borgia,  Veronica  Gambara,  and 
Vittoria  Colonna,  are  addressed  with  a  mingled  free- 
dom and  ceremony,  nicely  graduated  according  to 
their  rank  or  degree  of  intimacy,  which  proves  the 
exquisite  tact  developed  t>y  the  intercourse  of  Courts 
in  men  like  Bembo. 

Since  the  composition  and  publication  of  such  letters 

1  My  edition  is  in  four  volumes,  Gualtero  Scotto,  Vinegia,  MDLII. 
They  are  collected  with  copious  additions  in  the  Classici  Italiani. 


BEMBO'S   LETTERS.  263 

formed  a  main  branch  of  literary  industry  in  the  period 
we  have  reached,1  it  will  be  well  to  offer  some  examples 
of  Bembo's  epistolary  style ;  and  for  this  purpose,  the 
correspondence  with  Lucrezia  Borgia  may  be  chosen, 
not  only  because  of  the  interest  attaching  to  her  friend- 
ship with  the  author,  but  also  because  the  topics  treated 
display  the  refinement  of  his  nature  in  a  very  agreeable 
light.2  In  one  of  these,  written  upon  the  occasion  of 
her  father's  death,  he  calls  Alexander  VI.  quel  vostro 
cosi  gran  padre.  In  a  second,  touched  with  the  deepest 
personal  feeling,  he  announces  the  death  of  his  own 
brother  Carlo,  mio  solo  e  caro  fratcllo,  unico  sostegno  c 
sollazzo  della  vita  mia?  In  a  third  he  thanks  her  for 
her  letters  of  condolence :  Le  lagrime  alle  quali  mi 
scrivete  essere  stata  constretta  leggendo  nelle  mie  lettere 
la  morte  del  mio  caro  e  amato  fratello  M.  Carlo,  sono 
dolcissimo  refrigerio  stato  al  mio  dolor  e,  se  cos  a  dolce 
alcuna  m  e  potuta  venire  a  questo  tempo.  In  a  fourth 
he  turns  this  graceful  compliment :  Pregherei  eziandio 
il  cielo,  che  ogni  giorno  v  accrescerebbe  la  bellezza;  ma  con- 
si  dero  che  non  vi  se  ne  pub  aggiungere.  In  a  fifth  he 
congratulates  Lucrezia  upon  the  birth  of  a  son  and 
heir,  and  in  a  sixth  condoles  with  her  upon  his  early 
death.  Then  another  boy  is  born,  just  when  the  Duke 
of  Urbino  dies ;  and  Bembo  mingles  courtly  tears  with 

i  It  will  be  impossible  to  do  more  than  make  general  reference  to  the 
vast  masses  of  Italian  letters  printed  in  the  sixteenth  century.  I  must, 
therefore,  content  myself  here  with  mentioning  the  collections  of  La  Casa, 
Caro,  Bernardo,  and  Torquato  Tasso,  Aretino,  Guidiccioni,  together  with 
the  miscellanies  published  under  the  titles  of  Lettere  Scritte  al  Signer 
Pietro  Aretino,  the  Lettere  Diverse  in  three  books  (Aldus,  1567),  and 
the  Lettere  di  Tredici  Uomini  lllustri  (Venetia,  1554). 

*  Lettere,  ed.  cit.  vol.  iv.  pp.  1-31. 

3  Another  letter,  dated  Venice,  August  I,  1504,  is  fuller  in  particu- 
lars about  this  dearly-loved  brother. 


264  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

ceremonious  protestations  of  his  joy.  It  would  be  im- 
possible to  pen  more  scholarly  exercises  upon  similar 
occasions;  and  through  the  style  of  the  professed 
epistolographer  we  seem  to  feel  that  Bembo  had  real 
interest  in  the  events  he  illustrates  so  elegantly.  The 
fatal  defect  of  his  letters  is,  that  he  is  always  thinking 
more  of  his  manner  than  of  his  matter.  Like  the 
humanists  from  whom  he  drew  his  mental  lineage,  he 
labored  for  posterity  without  reckoning  on  the  actual 
demands  posterity  would  make.  Success  crowned  his 
efforts  in  the  pleasure  he  afforded  to  the  public  of  his 
day ;  but  this  was  a  success  comparable  with  that  of 
Bernardo  Accolti  or  Tibaldeo  of  Ferrara,  whom  he 
scorned.  He  little  thought  that  future  students  would 
rate  an  annalist  of  Corio's  stamp,  for  the  sake  of  his 
material,  at  a  higher  value  than  the  polished  author  of 
the  Lettere.  Yet  such  is  the  irony  of  fame  that  we 
could  willingly  exchange  Bembo's  nicely-turned  phrases 
for  a  few  solid  facts,  a  few  spontaneous  effusions. 

Bembo  was  a  power  in  literature,  the  exact  force  of 
which  it  is  difficult  to  estimate  without  taking  his  per- 
sonal influence  into  consideration.  Distinguished  by 
great  physical  beauty,  gifted  with  a  noble  presence, 
cultivated  in  the  commerce  of  the  best  society,  he 
added  to  his  insight  and  his  mental  energy  all  the  charm 
that  belongs  to  a  man  of  fashion  and  persuasive  elo- 
quence in  conversation.  He  was  untiring  in  his  literary 
industry,  unfailing  in  his  -courtesy  to  scholars,  punctual 
in  correspondence,  and  generous  in  the  use  he*  made 
of  his  considerable  wealth.  At  Urbino,  at  Venice,  at 
Rome,  and  at  Padua,  his  study  was  the  meeting-place 
of  learned  men,  who  found  the  graces  of  the  highest 


BEMBO'S   PERSONAL    INTEREST.  265 

aristocracy  combined  in  him  with  genial  enthusiasm  for 
the  common  interests  of  letters.  Thus  the  man  did 
even  more  than  the  author  to  promote  the  revolution 
he  had  at  heart.  This  is  brought  home  to  us  with 
force  when  we  consider  the  place  assigned  to  him  in 
Castiglione's  CorUgiano — a  masterpiece  of  composition 
transcending,  in  my  opinion,  all  the  efforts  made  by 
Bembo  to  conquer  the  difficulties  of  style.  Castiglione 
is  no  less  correct  than  the  dictator  strove  to  be ;  but  at 
the  same  time  he  is  far  more  natural.  He  treats  the 
same  topics  with  greater  ease,  and  with  a  warmth  of 
feeling  and  conviction  which  endears  him  to  the  heart 
of  those  who  read  his  golden  periods.  Yet  Castiglione 
gives  the  honors  of  his  dialogue  to  the  author  of  the 
Asolani,  when  he  puts  into  the  mouth  of  Bembo  that 
glowing  panegyric  of  Platonic  love,  which  forms  the 
close  and  climax  of  his  dialogue  upon  the  qualities  of  a 
true  gentleman.1 

The  crowning  merit  of  the  Cortegiano  is  an  air  of 
good  breeding  and  disengagement  from  pedantic  prej- 
udices. This  urbanity  renders  it  a  book  to  read  with 
profit  and  instruction  through  all  time.  Castiglione's 
culture  was  the  result  of  a  large  experience  of  men 
and  books,  ripened  by  intercourse  with  good  society 
in  all  its  forms.  His  sense  and  breadth  of  view  are 
peculiarly  valuable  when  he  discusses  a  subject  like 
that  which  forms  the  topic  of  the  present  chapter. 
There  is  one  passage  in  his  book,  relating  to  the  prob- 

i  //  Cortegiano  (ed.  Lemonnier,  Firenze,  1854),  pp.  296-303.  I  have 
already  spoken  at  some  length  about  this  essay  in  the  Age  of  the  Des- 
pots, pp.  183-190,  and  have  narrated  the  principal  events  of  Casti- 
jlione's  life  in  the  Revival  of  Learning,  pp.  418-422.  For  his  Latin 
poems  see  ib.  pp.  490-497. 


266  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

lem  of  Italian  style,  which,  had  it  been  treated  with 
the  attention  it  deserved,  might  have  saved  his  fellow- 
countrymen  from  the  rigors  of  pedagogical  despotism.1 
Starting  from  his  cardinal  axiom  that  good  manners 
demand  freedom  from  all  affectation,  he  deprecates  the 
use  in  speech  or  writing  of  those  antiquated  Tuscan 
words  the  purists  loved.  As  usual,  he  hits  the  very 
center  of  the  subject  in  his  comments  on  this  theme. 
"  It  seems  to  me,  therefore,  exceedingly  strange  to 
employ  words  in  writing  which  we  avoid  in  all  the 
common  usages  of  conversation.  Writing  is  nothing 
but  a  form  of  speaking,  which  continues  to  exist  after 
a  man  has  spoken,  and  is,  as  it  were,  an  image  or 
rather  the  life  of  the  words  he  utters.  Therefore  in 
speech,  which,  as  soon  as  the  voice  has  issued  from 
the  mouth,  is  lost,  some  things  may  be  tolerated  that 
are  not  admissible  in  composition,  because  writing  pre- 
serves the  words,  subjects  them  to  the  criticism  of  the 
reader,  and  allows  time  for  their  mature  consideration. 
It  is  consequently  reasonable  to  use  greater  diligence 
with  a  view  to  making  what  we  write  more  polished 
and  correct,  yet  not  to  do  this  so  that  the  written 
words  shall  differ  from  the  spoken,  but  only  so  that  the 
best  in  spoken  use  shall  be  selected  for  our  composition." 
After  touching  on  the  need  of  lucidity,  he  proceeds : 
"  I  therefore  should  approve  of  a  man's  not  only  avoid- 
ing antiquated  Tuscan  phrases,  but  also  being  careful 
to  employ  such  as  are  in"  present  use  in  Tuscany  and 
other  parts  of  Italy,  provided  they  have  a  certain 
grace  and  harmony."2  At  this  point  another  inter- 

»  Ed.  cit.  pp.  39-53. 

»  Ariosto's  style  was  formed  on  precisely  these  principles. 


CASTIGLIONE  S    THEORY   OF  STYLE.  267 

locutor  in  the  dialogue  observes  that  Italy  possesses 
no  common  language.  In  the  difficulty  of  knowing 
whether  to  follow  the  custom  of  Florence  or  of  Ber- 
gamo, it  is  desirable  to  recognize  a  classical  standard  of 
style.  Petrarch  and  Boccaccio  should  be  selected  as 
models.  To  refuse  to  imitate  them  is  mere  presump- 
tion. Here  Castiglione  states  the  position  of  the  school 
he  combats.  In  his  answer  to  their  argument  he 
makes  Giuliano  de'  Medici,  one  of  the  company,  declare 
that  he,  a  Tuscan  of  the  Tuscans  as  he  is,  should  never 
think  of  employing  any  words  of  Petrarch  or  Boc- 
caccio which  were  obsolete  in  good  society.  Then  the 
thread  of  exposition  is  resumed.  The  Italian  language, 
in  spite  of  its  long  past,  may  still  be  called  young  and 
unformed.  When  the  Roman  Empire  decayed,  spoken 
Latin  suffered  from  the  corruptions  introduced  by  bar- 
barian invaders.  It  retained  greater  purity  in  Tuscany 
than  elsewhere.  Yet  other  districts  of  Italy  preserved 
certain  elements  of  the  ancient  language  that  have  a 
right  to  be  incorporated  with  the  living  tongue;  nor 
is  it  reasonable  to  suppose  that  a  modern  dialect 
should  at  a  certain  moment  have  reached  perfection 
any  more  than  Latin  did.  The  true  rule  to  follow  is 
to  see  that  a  man  has  something  good  to  say.  "  Making 
a  division  between  thoughts  and  words  is  much  the 
same  as  separating  soul  and  body.  In  order,  therefore, 
to  speak  or  write  well,  our  courtier  must  have  knowl- 
edge ;  for  he  who  has  none,  and  whose  mind  is  void 
of  matter  worthy  to  be  apprehended,  has  naught  to 
say  or  write."  He  must  be  careful  to  clothe  his 
thoughts  in  select  and  fitting  words,  but  above  all 
things  to  use  such  "  as  are  still  upon  the  lips  of  the 


268  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

people."  He  need  not  shun  foreign  phrases,  if  there 
be  a  special  force  in  them  above  their  synonyms  in  his 
own  language.  Nor  is  there  cause  to  fear  lest  the 
vulgar  tongue  should  prove  deficient  in  resources  when 
examined  by  grammarians  and  stylists.  "  Even  though 
it  be  not  ancient  Tuscan  of  the  purest  water,  it  will  be 
Italian,  common  to  the  nation,  copious  and  varied, 
like  a  delicious  garden  full  of  divers  fruits  and  flowers." 
Here  Castiglione  quotes  the  precedent  of  Greek,  show- 
ing that  each  of  its  dialects  contributed  something  to 
the  common  stock,  though  Attic  was  recognized  as 
sovereign  for  its  polish.  Among  the  Romans  likewise, 
Livy  was  not  tabooed  because  of  his  patavinity,  nor 
Virgil  because  the  Romans  recognized  a  something  in 
him  of  rusticity.  "  We,  meanwhile,  far  more  severe 
than  the  ancients,  impose  upon  ourselves  certain  new- 
fangled laws  that  have  no  true  relation  to  the  object. 
With  a  beaten  track  before  our  eyes,  we  try  to  walk 
in  bypaths.  We  take  a  willful  pleasure  in  obscurity, 
though  our  language,  like  all  others,  is  only  meant  to 
express  our  thoughts  with  force  and  clearness.  While 
we  call  it  the  popular  speech,  we  plume  ourselves  on 
using  phrases  that  are  not  only  unknown  to  the  people, 
but  unintelligible  to  men  of  birth  and  learning,  and 
which  have  fallen  out  of  conversation  in  every  district 
of  the  land."  If  Petrarch  and  Boccaccio  were  living  at 
our  epoch,  they  would  certainly  omit  words  that  have 
fallen  out  of  fashion  since  their  days;  and  it  is  mere 
impertinence  for  a  purist  to  tell  me  that  I  ought  to  say 
Campidoglio  instead  of  Capitolio  and  so  forth,  because 
some  elder  Tuscan  author  wrote  it,  or  the  peasants  of 
the  Tuscan  district  speak  it  so.  You  argue  that  only 


CASTIGLIONE'S   PLEA    FOR    FREEDOM.  269 

pride  prevents  our  imitating  Petrarch  and  Boccaccio. 
But  pray  inform  me  whom  they  imitated?  To  model 
Latin  poems  upon  Virgil  or  Catullus  is  necessary, 
because  Latin  is  a  dead  language.  But  since  Italian 
is  alive  and  spoken,  let  us  write  it  as  we  use  it,  with 
due  attention  to  artistic  elegance.  "The  final  master 
of  style  is  genius,  and  the  ultimate  guide  is  a  sound 
natural  judgment."  Do  we  require  all  our  painters  to 
follow  one  precedent  ?  Lionardo,  Mantegna,  Raphael, 
Michelangelo,  Giorgione  have  struck  out  different 
paths  of  excellence  in  art.  Writers  should  claim  the 
same  liberty  of  choice,  the  same  spontaneity  of  inspira- 
tion. "  I  cannot  comprehend  how  it  should  be  right, 
instead  of  enriching  Italian  and  giving  it  spirit,  dignity 
and  luster,  to  make  it  poor,  attenuated,  humble  and 
obscure,  and  so  to  pen  it  up  within  fixed  limits  as  that 
every  one  should  have  to  copy  Petrarch  and  Boccaccio. 
Why  should  we,  for  example,  not  put  equal  faith  in 
Poliziano,  Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  Francesco  Diaceto,  and 
others  who  are  Tuscan  too,  and  possibly  of  no  less 
learning  and  discretion  than  were  Petrarch  and  Boc- 
caccio? However,  there  are  certain  scrupulous  persons 
abroad  nowadays,  who  make  a  religion  and  ineffable 
mystery  of  their  Tuscan  tongue,  frightening  those  who 
listen  to  them,  to  the  length  of  preventing  many  noble 
and  lettered  men  from  opening  their  lips,  and  forcing 
them  to  admit  they  do  not  know  how  to  talk 
the  language  they  learned  from  their  nurses  in  the 
cradle." l 

1  The  preface  to  the  Cortegiano  may  be  compared  with  this  passage. 
.When  it  appeared,  the  critics  complained  that  Castiglione  had  not  imi- 
tated Boccaccio.  His  answer  is  marked  by  good  sense  and  manly  logic: 


270  RENAISSANCE    IN  ITALY. 

If  the  Italians  could  have  accepted  Castiglione's 
principles,  and  approached  the  problem  of  their  lan- 
guage in  his  liberal  spirit,  the  nation  would  have  been 
spared  its  wearisome,  perpetually  recurrent  quarrel 
about  words.  But  the  matter  had  already  got  into  the 
hands  of  theorists ;  and  local  jealousies  were  inflamed. 
The  municipal  wars  of  the  middle  ages  were  resusci- 
tated on  the  ground  of  rhetoric  and  grammar.  Un- 
luckily, the  quarrel  is  not  over ;  adhuc  sub  judice  Us 
est,  and  there  is  no  judge  to  decide  it.  But  in  the 
nineteenth  century  it  no  longer  rages  with  the  violence 
that  made  it  a  matter  of  duels,  assassinations  and  life- 
long hatreds  in  the  sixteenth.  The  Italians  have 
recently  secured  for  the  first  time  in  their  history  the 
external  conditions  which  are  necessary  to  a  natural 
settlement  of  the  dispute  by  the  formation  of  a  common 
speech  through  common  usage.  The  parliament,  the 
army,  the  newspapers  of  United  Italy  are  rapidly 
creating  a  language  adequate  to  all  the  needs  of 
modern  life;  and  though  purists  may  still  be  found, 
who  maintain  that  Passavanti's  Specchio  is  a  model  of 
style  for  leading  articles  in  Fanfulla,  yet  the  nation, 
having  passed  into  a  new  phase  of  existence,  must  be 
congratulated  on  having  exchanged  the  "golden  sim- 
plicity of  the  trecento"  for  a  powerful  and  variously- 
colored  instrument  of  self-expression.  • 

To  stir  the  dust  of  those  obsolete  controversies  on 
the  language  of  Italy — t©  make  extracts  from  Varchi's, 
Sperone's  or  Bembo's  treatises  upon  the  Tongues — to 

see  pp.  3,  4.  With  Castiglione,  Aretino  joined  hands,  the  ruffian  with 
the  gentleman,  in  this  matter  of  revolt  against  the  purists.  See  the 
chapter  in  this  volume  upon  Aretino. 


WARFARE   ABOUT  LANGUAGE. 


271 


set  Tolommei's  claims  for  Tuscan  priority  in  the 
balance  against  Muzio's  more  modest  pleas  in  favor 
of  Italian l — to  describe  how  one  set  of  scholars  argued 
that  the  vernacular  ought  to  be  called  Tuscan,  how 
another  dubbed  it  Florentine  or  Sienese,  and  how  a 
third,  more  sensible,  voted  for  Italian2 — to  enumerate 
the  blasts  and  counterblasts  of  criticism  blown  about 
each  sentence  in  Boccaccio  and  Petrarch3 — to  resusci- 
tate the  orthographical  encounters  between  Trissino 
and  Firenzuola  on  the  matter  of  the  letter  K — is  no 
part  of  my  present  purpose.  It  must  suffice  to  have 
noted  that  these  problems  occupied  the  serious  atten- 
tion of  the  literary  world,  and  to  have  indicated  by 
extracts  from  Sperone  and  Castiglione  the  extreme 
limits  of  pedantry  and  sound  sense  between  which  the 
opinion  of  the  learned  vibrated.  The  details  of  the 
quarrel  may  be  left  to  the  obscurity  of  treatises,  long 
since  doomed  to  "  dust  and  an  endless  darkness." 

Much  unprofitable  expenditure  of  time  and  thought 
upon  verbal  questions  of  no  vital  interest  was  en- 
couraged by  the  Academies,  which  now  began  to 
sprout  like  mushrooms  in  all  towns  of  Italy.4  The  old 

1  Varchi's  Ercolano  or  Dialogo  delle  Lingue;  Sperone's  dialogue 
Delle  Lingue;  Claudio  Tolommei's  Cesano;  Girolamo  Muzio's  Battaglie. 

2  Varchi   called    it  Fiorentina,   Tolommei  and   Salviati    Toscana, 
Bargagli  Senese,  Trissino  and  Muzio  Italiana.    Castiglione  and  Bembo 
agreed  in  aiming  at  Italian  rather  than  pure  Tuscan,  but  differed  in  their 
proposed  method  of  cultivating  style.     Bembo  preferred  to  call  the  lan- 
guage Volgare,  as  it  was  the  common  property  of  the  Volga.    Castiglione 
suggested  the  title  Cortigiana,  as  it  was  refined  and  settled  by  the  usage 
of  Courts.     Yet  Castiglione  was  more  liberal  than  Bembo  in  acknowl- 
edging the  claims  of  local  dialects. 

3  For  a  list  of  commentators  upon  Petrarch  at  this  period,  see  Tira- 
boschi,  lib.  iii.  cap.  iii.,  section  I.    Common  sense  found  at  last  sarcastic 
utterance  in  Tassoni. 

*  See  Revival  of  Learning,  pp.  365-368. 


27*  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

humanistic  societies  founded  by  Cosimo  de'  Medici, 
Pomponius  Laetus,  Pontano,  and  A!do  for  the  promo- 
tion of  classical  studies,  had  done  their  work  and  died 
away.  Their  successors,  the  Umidi  of  Florence,  the 
Pellegrini  of  Venice,  the  Eterei  of  Padua,  the  Vignai- 
uoli  of  Rome,  professed  to  follow  the  same  objects,  with 
special  attention  to  the  reformation  of  Italian  literature. 
Yet  their  very  titles  indicate  a  certain  triviality  and 
want  of  manly  purpose.  They  were  clubs  combining 
conviviality  with  the  pursuit  of  study;  and  it  too  fre- 
quently happened  that  the  spirit  of  their  jovial  meet- 
ings extended  itself  to  the  dicerie,  cicalate  and  capitoli 
recited  by  their  members,  when  the  cloth  was  drawn 
and  the  society  sat  down  to  intellectual  banquets.  At  the 
same  time  the  Academies  were  so  fashionable  and  so 
universal  that  they  gave  the  tone  to  literature.  It  was 
the  ambition  of  all  rising  students  to  be  numbered  with 
the  more  illustrious  bodies ;  and  when  a  writer  of 
promise  joined  one  of  these,  he  naturally  felt  the  in- 
fluence of  his  companions.  Member  vied  with  member 
in  producing  sonnets  and  rhetorical  effusions  on  the 
slenderest  themes;  for  it  was  less  an  object  to  probe 
weighty  matters  or  to  discover  truth,  than  to  make  a 
display  of  ingenuity  by  clothing  trifles  in  sonorous 
language.  Surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  empty-pated  but 
censorious  critics,  exercised  in  the  minutiae  of  style  and 
armed  with  precedents  from  Petrarch,  the  poet  read  his 
verses  to  the  company.  .They  were  approved  or  re- 
jected according  as  they  satisfied  the  sense  of  correct- 
ness, or  fell  below  the  conventional  standard  of  imitative 
diction.  To  think  profoundly,  to  feel  intensely,  to 
imagine  boldly,  to  invent  novelties,  to  be  original  in 


PETRARCHISTIC  LITERATURE.  273 

any  line,  was  perilous.  The  wealth  of  the  Academies, 
the  interest  of  the  public  in  purely  literary  questions, 
and  the  activity  of  the  press  encouraged  the  publication 
and  circulation  of  these  pedantic  exercises.  Time 
would  fail  to  tell  of  all  the  poems  and  orations  poured 
forth  at  the  expense  of  these  societies  and  greedily 
devoured  by  friends  prepared  to  eulogize,  or  rival 
bodies  eager  to  dissect  and  criticise.  Students  who 
are  desirous  of  forming  some  conception  of  the  multi- 
tudes of  poets  at  this  period,  must  be  referred  to  the 
pages  of  Quadrio  with  a  warning  that  Tiraboschi  is 
inclined  to  think  that  even  Quadrio's  lists  are  incom- 
plete. All  ranks  and  conditions  both  of  men  and 
women  joined  in  the  pursuit.  Princes  and  plebeians, 
scholars  and  worldlings,  noble  ladies  and  leaders  of  the 
demi-monde,  high-placed  ecclesiastics  and  penniless  Bo- 
hemians aspired  to  the  same  honors ;  and  the  one  idol 
of  the  motley  crowd  was  Petrarch.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  the  final  result  of  their  labors  was  the  attainment 
of  a  certain  grace  and  the  diffusion  of  literary  elegance. 
Yet  these  gains  carried  with  them  a  false  feeling  about 
poetry  in  general,  a  wrong  conception  of  its  purpose 
and  its  scope.  The  Italian  purists  could  scarcely  have 
comprehended  the  drift  of  Milton's  excursion,  in  his 
"  Reason  of  Church  Government  urged  against  Prelaty," 
upon  the  high  vocation  of  the  prophet-bard.  They 
would  have  been  no  less  puzzled  by  Sidney's  definition 
of  poetry,  and  have  felt  Shelley's  last  word  upon  the 
poetic  office,  "  Poets  are  the  unacknowledged  legis- 
lators of  the  world,"  to  be  no  better  than  a  piece  of 
pardonable  lunacy. 

In    this    thick  -  spreading    undergrowth    of    verse, 


274  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

where,  as  TiraboSchi  aptly  remarks,  "beneath  the  green 
and  ample  foliage  we  seek  in  vain  for  fruit,"  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  see  the  wood  by  reason  of  the  trees.  Poet  so 
closely  resembles  poet  in  the  mediocrity  of  similar 
attainment,  that  we  are  forced  to  sigh  for  the  energy 
of  Michelangelo's  unfinished  sonnets,  or  the  crudities 
of  Campanella's  muse.  Yet  it  is  possible  to  make  a 
representative  selection  of  writers,  who,  while  they  be- 
longed to  the  school  of  the  purists  and  were  associated 
with  the  chief  Academies  of  the  day,  distinguished 
themselves  by  some  originality  of  style  or  by  enduring 
qualities  of  literary  excellence.  Foremost  among  these 
may  be  placed  Monsignore  Giovanni  della  Casa.  He 
was  born  in  1603  of  noble  Florentine  parents,  his 
mother  being  a  member  of  the  Tornabuoni  family. 
Educated  at  Bologna,  he  entered  the  service  of  the 
Church,  and  already  in  1538  had  reached  the  dignity  of 
Apostolic  Clerk.  Rome  was  still  what  Lorenzo  de' 
Medici  had  called  it,  "  a  sink  of  all  the  vices,"  and  very 
few  ecclesiastics  escaped  its  immoralities.  La  Casa 
formed  some  permanent  connection,  the  fruit  of  which 
was  his  acknowledged  son  Quirino.1  In  1640  he  was 
sent  on  a  special  mission  to  Florence  with  the  title  of 
Apostolic  Commissary ;  and  in  1 544  he  was  raised  to 
the  Archbishopric  of  Benevento,  and  soon  afterwards 
appointed  Nuncio  at  Venice.  During  the  pontificate 
of  Julius  III.,  finding  himself  out  of  favor  with  the 

1  Quirino  is  mentioned  as  "legitimatum,  seu  forsitan  legitimandum," 
in  La  Casa's  will  (Opp.  Venezia,  Pasinelli,  1752,  vol.  i.  p.  Ixxvii.).  From 
his  name  and  his  age  at  La  Casa's  death  we  ought  perhaps  to  refer  this 
fruit  of  his  amours  to  the  Venetian  period  of  his  life  and  his  intimacy 
with  the  Quirino  family.  His  biographer,  Casotti,  says  that  he  discov- 
ered nothing  about  the  mother's  name  (loc,  cit.  p.  Ixxiii.). 


GIOVANNI  LA    CASA. 


275 


Vatican,  he  continued  to  reside  at  Venice,  employing 
his  leisure  in  literary  occupations.  Paul  IV.  recalled 
him  to  Rome,  and  made  him  Secretary  of  State.  But 
though  he  seemed  upon  the  point  of  touching  the 
highest  ecclesiastical  dignity,  La  Casa  was  never  pro- 
moted to  the  Cardinalate.  It  is  difficult  to  find  a 
reason  for  this  omission,  unless  we  accept  the  traditional 
belief  that  the  scandal  of  his  Capitolo  del  Forno  barred 
La  Casa's  entrance  to  the  Sacred  College.1  This  bur- 
lesque poem,  at  any  rate,  supplied  the  Protestants  with 
a  weapon  which  they  used  against  the  Church.  The 
legend  based  upon  its  audacious  obscenities  was  credited 
by  Bayle,  and  in  part  refuted  by  the  Antibaillet  of 
Menage.  Though  by  no  means  more  offensive  to  go'od 
taste  than  scores  of  similar  compositions,  the  high  rank 
of  its  author  and  the  offices  of  trust  he  had  discharged 
for  the  Papal  Curia,  emphasized  its  infamy,  and  caused 
La  Casa  to  be  chosen  as  the  scapegoat  for  his  comrades. 
He  died  in  i556. 

La  Casa's  name  is  best  known  in  modern  literature 
by  his  treatise  on  the  manners  of  the  finished  gentle- 
man. In  this  short  essay,  entitled  Galateo,  he  discusses 
the  particulars  of  social  conduct,  descending  to  rules 
about  the  proper  use  of  the  drinking-glass  at  table,  the 
employment  of  the  napkin,  the  dressing  of  the  hair, 

1  La  Casa  received  a  special  commission  at  Venice  in  1546,  to  prose- 
cute Pier  Paolo  Vergerio  for  heresy.  When  Vergerio  went  into  exile, 
he  did  his  best  to  blacken  La  Casa's  character,  and  used  his  writings  to 
point  the  picture  he  drew  in  Protestant  circles  of  ecclesiastical  profligacy. 
The  whole  subject  of  La  Casa's  exclusion  from  the  College  is  treated  by 
his  editor,  Casotti  (Opp.  vol.  i.  pp.  xlv.-xlviii.).  That  the  Bishop  of 
Benevento  was  stung  to  the  quick  by  Vergerio's  invectives  may  be  seen 
in  his  savage  answer  "  Adversus  Paulum  Vergerium  "(Opp.  iii.  103), 
and  in  the  hendecasyllables  "  Ad  Germanos  "  (Opp.  \.  295),  both  of  which 
discuss  the  Forno  and  attempt  to  apologize  for  it. 


276  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

and  the  treatment  of  immodest  topics  by  polite  peri- 
phrases.1 Galateo  is  recommended  not  to  breathe  hard 
in  the  face  of  the  persons  he  is  speaking  to,  not  to  swear 
at  his  servants  in  company,  not  to  trim  his  nails  in 
public,  not  to  tell  indecent  anecdotes  to  girls,  and  so 
forth.  He  is  shown  how  to  dress  with  proper  pomp, 
what  ceremonies  to  observe,  and  which  to  omit  as  ser- 
vile or  superfluous,  how  to  choose  his  words,  and  how 
to  behave  at  dinner.  The  book  is  an  elaborate  dis- 
course on  etiquette;  and  while  it  never  goes  far  below 
the  surface,  it  is  full  of  useful  precepts  based  upon  the 
principles  of  mutual  respect  and  tolerance  which  govern 
good  society.  We  might  accept  it  as  a  sequel  to  the 
Courtier;  for  while  Castiglione  drew  the  portrait  of  a 
gentleman,  La  Casa  explained  how  this  gentleman 
should  conduct  himself  among  his  equals.  The  chief 
curiosity  about  the  book  is,  that  a  man  of  its  author's 
distinction  should  have  thought  it  worthy  of  his  pains 
to  formulate  so  many  rules  of  simple  decency.  From 
the  introduction  it  is  clear  that  La  Casa  meant  the 
Galateo  to  be  a  handbook  for  young  men  entering  upon 
the  world.  That  it  fulfilled  this  purpose,  seems  proved 
by  the  fact  that  its  title  passed  into  a  proverb.  "  To 
teach  the  Galateo "  is  synonymous  in  Italian  with  to 
teach  good  manners. 

One  whole  volume  of  La  Casa's  collected  works  is 
devoted  to  his  official  and  familiar  correspondence, 
composed  in  choice  but  colorless  Italian.2  Another 
contains  his  Italian  and  Latin  poems.  No  poet  of  the 
century  expressed  his  inner  self  more  plainly  than  La 

1   Opp.  vol.  i.  pp.  237-306.     Galateo  is  said  to  have  been  a  certain 
Galeazzo  Florimonte  of  Sessa. 

*  Vol.  ii.  of  the  Venetian  edition,  1752. 


GALATEO,    LETTERS,    VERSE.  277 

Casa.  in  his  verse.  The  spectacle  is  stern  and  grave. 
From  the  vocabulary  of  the  Tuscan  classics  he  seems 
to  have  chosen  the  gloomiest  phrases,  to  adumbrate 
some  unknown  terror  of  the  soul.1  Sometimes  his 
sonnets,  in  their  vivid  but  polished  grandeur,  rise  even 
to  sublimity,  as  when  he  compares  himself  to  a  leafless 
wood  in  winter,  beaten  by  fiercer  storms,  with  days 
•more  cold  and  short  in  front,  and  with  a  longer  night 
to  follow.2  It  is  a  cheerless  prospect  of  old  age  and 
death,  uncomforted  by  hope,  unvisited  by  human  love. 
The  same  shadow,  intensified  by  even  a  deeper  horror 
of  some  coming  doom,  rests  upon  another  sonnet  in 
which  he  deplores  his  wasted  life.3  It  drapes,  as  with 
a  funeral  pall,  the  long  majestic  ode  describing  his 
early  errors  and  the  vanity  of  worldly  pomp.4  It  adds 
despair  to  his  lines  on  jealousy,  intensity  to  his  satire 
on  Court-life,  and  incommunicable  sadness  to  the  poems 
of  his  love.5  Very  judicious  were  the  Italian  critics 

i  Take  for  instance  this  outburst  from  a  complimentary  sonnet  (No. 
40,  vol.  i.  p.  70): 

O  tempestosa,  o  torbida  procella, 
Che  'n  mar  si  crudo  la  mia  vita  giri! 
Donna  amar,  ch'  Amor  odia  e  i  suoi  desiri, 
Che  sdegno  e  feritate  onor  appella. 
Or  this  opening  of  the  sonnet  on  Court-honors  (No.  26): 
Mentre  fra  valli  paludose  ed  ime 
Ritengon  me  larve  turbate,  e  mostri, 
Che  tra  le  gemme,  lasso,  e  1*  auro,  e  gli  ostri 
Copron  venen,  che  '1  cor  mi  roda  e  lima. 
Or  this  from  a  Canzone  on  his  love  (No.  2): 

Qual  chiuso  albergo  in  solitario  bosco 
Pien  di  sospetto  suol  pregar  talora 
Corrier  di  notte  traviato  e  lasso; 
Tal  io  per  entro  il  tuo  dubbioso,  e  fosco, 
E  duro  calle,  Amor,  corro  e  trapasso. 
*  Sonnet  58,  vol.  i.  154. 

s  No.  52,  ib.  p.  136.  4  Canzone  4,  ib.  p.  102. 

5  Sonnets  8,  26,  40.  ib.  pp.  12,  39,  70;   Canzone  2,  ib.  p.  79. 


278  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

who  pronounced  his  style  too  stern  for  the  erotic 
muse.  We  find  something  at  once  sinister  and  solemn 
in  his  mood.  The  darkness  that  envelops  him,  issues 
from  the  depth  of  his  own  heart.  The  world  around 
is  bright  with  beautiful  women  and  goodly  men ;  but 
he  is  alone,  shut  up  with  fear  and  self-reproach.  Such 
a  voice  befits  the  age,  as  we  learn  to  know  it  in  our 
books  of  history,  far  better  than  the  light  effusions  of 
contemporary  rhymsters.  It  suits  the  black-robed 
personages  painted  by  Moroni,  whose  calm  pale  eyes 
seem  gazing  on  a  world  made  desolate,  they  know  not 
why.  Its  accents  are  all  the  more  melancholy  because 
La  Casa  yielded  to  no  impulses  of  rage.  He  re- 
mained sober,  cold,  sedate ;  but  by  some  fatal  instinct 
shunned  the  light  and  sought  the  shade.  The  gloom 
that  envelops  him  is  only  broken  by  the  baleful  fires 
of  his  Capitoli.  That  those  burlesque  verses,  of  which 
I  shall  speak  in  another  place,  were  written  in  his  early 
manhood,  and  that  the  Rime  were  perhaps  the  com- 
position of  his  age,  need  not  prevent  us  from  connect- 
ing them  together.  The  dreariness  of  La  Casa's  later 
years  may  well  have  been  engendered  by  the  follies 
of  his  youth.  It  is  the  despondency  of  exhaustion 
following  on  ill-expended  energy,  the  tcedium  vita 
which  fell  on  Italy  when  she  awoke  from  laughter. 

In  illustration  of  the  foregoing  remarks  I  have 
translated  six  of  La  Casa's  sonnets,  which  I  shall  here 
insert  without  further  comment.1  In  point  of  form, 
Italian  literature  can  show  few  masterpieces  superior 
to  the  first  and  second. 

'  They  are  Nos.  58,  50,  25,  26,  8.     The  sixth,  on  Jealousy,  may  be 
compared  with  Sannazzaro's,  above,  p.  200. 


LA    C ASA'S   SONNETS. 

Sweet  woodland  solitude,  that  art  so  dear 
To  my  dark  soul  lost  in  doubt's  dreadful  maze, 
Now  that  the  North-wind,  these  short  sullen  days, 
Wraps  earth  and  air  in  winter's  mantle  drear, 

And  thy  green  ancient  shadowy  locks  are  sere, 
White  as  my  own,  above  the  frosty  ways, 
Where  summer  flowers  once  basked  beneath  heaven's  rays, 
But  rigid  ice  now  reigns  and  snows  austere; 

Pondering  upon  that  brief  and  cloudy  light 
That's  left  for  me,  I  walk,  and  feel  my  mind 
And  members,  like  thy  branches,  frozen  too; 

Yet  me,  within,  without,  worse  frost  doth  bind, 
My  winter  brings  a  fiercer  East-wind's  blight, 
A  longer  darkness,  days  more  cold,  more  few. 

O  Sleep,  O  tranquil  son  of  noiseless  Night, 

Of  humid,  shadowy  Night;  O  dear  repose 

For  wearied  men,  forgetfulness  of  woes 

Grievous  enough  the  bloom  of  life  to  blight ! 
Succor  this  heart  that  hath  outgrown  delight, 

And  knows  no  rest;  these  tired  limbs  compose; 

Fly  to  me,  Sleep;  thy  dusky  vans  disclose 

Over  my  languid  eyes,  then  cease  thy  flight. 
Where,  where  is  Silence,  that  avoids  the  day? 

Where  the  light  dreams,  that  with  a  wavering  tread 

And  unsubstantial  footing  follow  thee  ? 
Alas !  in  vain  I  call  thee;  and  these  gray, 

These  frigid  shades  flatter  in  vain.     O  bed, 

How  rough  with  thorns  !     O  nights,  how  harsh  to  me  ! 

It  was  my  wont  by  day  to  seek  the  grove 

Or  grot  or  font,  soothing  my  soul  with  song, 

Weaving  sweet  woes  in  rhyme,  and  all  night  long 

To  watch  the  stars  with  Phoebus  and  with  Love; 
Nor,  Bernard,  did  I  fear  with  thee  to  rove 

That  sacred  mount  where  now  few  poets  throng: 

Till  like  sea-billows,  uncontrollably  strong, 

Me  too  the  vulgar  usage  earthward  drove; 
And  bound  me  down  to  tears  and  bitter  life, 

Where  fonts  are  not,  nor  laural  boughs,  nor  shade, 

But  false  and  empty  honor  stirs  vain  strife. 
Now,  not  unmixed  with  envious  regret, 

I  watch  thee  scale  yon  far-off  heights,  where  yet 

No  footstep  on  the  sward  was  ever  laid. 


279 


280  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

While  mid  low-lying  dells  and  swampy  vales 
Those  troubled  ghosts  and  dreams  my  feet  delay, 
Which  hide  'neath  gems  and  gold  and  proud  array 
The  barb  of  poison  that  my  heart  impales; 

Thou  on  the  heights  that  virtue  rarely  scales, 
By  paths  untrodden  and  a  trackless  way, 
Wrestling  for  fame  with  thine  own  soul,  dost  stray, 
Free  o'er  yon  hills  no  earth-born  cloud  assails. 

Whence  I  take  shame  and  sorrow,  when  I  think 
How  with  the  crowd  in  this  low  net  accursed 
I  fell,  and  how  'tis  doomed  that  I  shall  die. 

O  happy  thou  !     Thou  hast  assuaged  thy  thirst ! 
Not  Phoebus  but  grief  dwells  with  me,  and  I 
Must  wait  to  purge  my  woes  on  Lethe's  brink. 

Now  pomps  and  purple,  now  clear  stream  or  field 
Seeking,  I've  brought  my  day  to  evensong, 
Profitless,  like  dry  fern  or  tares,  the  throng 
Of  luckless  lierbs  that  no  fair  fruitage  yield. 

Wherefore  my  heart,  false  guide  on  this  vain  quest, 
More  than  a  smitten  flint  strikes  spark  and  flame; 
So  dulled  a  spirit  must  she  bring  with  shame 
To  Him  who  placed  it  bright  within  my  breast. 

Poor  heart !    She  well  deserves  to  chafe  and  burn 
Since  her  so  precious  and  so  noble  freight, 
Ill-governed,  she  to  loss  and  woe  doth  turn  ! 

Nor  'neath  the  North-wind  do  the  branches  quake 
On  yonder  bristling  oak-trees,  as  I  shake 
Fearing  that  even  repentance  comes  too  late. 

Heart-ache,  that  drawest  nutriment  from  fear, 
And  still  through  growing  fear  dost  gather  power; 
That  mingling  ice  with  flame,  confusion  drear 
And  fell  disaster  on  love's  realm  dost  shower ! 

Forth  from  my  breast,  since  all  thy  bitter  cheer 
With  my  life's  sweet  thou'st  blent  in  one  brief  hour  ! 
Hence  to  Cocytus  !     Where  hell  drinks  each  tear 
Of  tortured  souls,  self-plagued,  self-loathing,  cower  ! 

There  without  rest  thy  dolorous  days  drag  out, 

Thy  dark  nights  without  slumber !    Smart  thy  worst 
No  less  with  felt  pangs  than  fictitious  doubt ! 

Avaunt !    Why  fiercer  now  than  at  the  first, 

Now  when  thy  venom  runs  my  veins  throughout, 
Bring'st  thou  on  those  black  wings  new  dreams  accurst? 


THE    WOES    OF  ITALY.  28 1 

The  vicissitudes  of  Italy  during  the  first  half  of  the 
sixteenth  century  were  so  tragic,  and  her  ruin  was  so 
near  at  hand,  that  we  naturally  seek  some  echo  of  this 
anguish  in  the  verses  of  her  poets.  Nothing,  however, 
is  rarer  than  to  find  direct  allusion  to  the  troubles  of 
the  times,  or  apprehension  of  impending  danger  ex- 
pressed in  sonnet  or  canzone.  While  following  Petrarch 
to  the  letter,  the  purists  neglected  his  odes  to 
Rienzi  and  the  Princes  of  Italy.  His  passionate  out- 
cry, Italia  mia,  found  no  response  in  their  rhetoric. 
Those  sublime  outpourings  of  eloquence,  palpitating 
with  alternate  hopes  and  fears,  might  have  taught  the 
poets  how  to  write  at  least  the  threnody  of  Rome  or 
Florence.  Had  they  studied  this  side  of  their  master's 
style,  the  gravity  of  the  matter  supplied  them  by  the 
miseries  of  their  country,  might  have  immortalized 
their  purity  of  style.  As  it  was,  they  preferred  the 
Rime  in  Vita  e  Morte  di  Madonna  Laura,  and  sang  of 
sentiments  they  had  not  felt,  while  Italy  was  dying. 
Only  here  and  there,  as  in  the  somber  rhymes  of  La 
Casa,  the  spirit  of  the  age  found  utterance  uncon- 
sciously. But  for  the  mass  of  versifiers  it  was  enough 
to  escape  from  the  real  agonies  of  the  moment  into 
academical  Arcadia,  to  forget  the  Spaniard  and  the 
Frenchman  in  Philiroe's  lap  with  Ariosto,  or  to  sigh 
for  a  past  age  of  gold x : 

O  rivi,  o  fonti,  o  fiumi,  o  faggi,  o  querce, 
Onde  il  mondo  novello  ebbe  suo  cibo 
In  quei  tranquilli  secoli  dell'  oro: 
Deh  come  ha  il  folle  poi  cangiando  1'  esca, 
Cangiato  il  gusto!  e  come  son  questi  anni 
Da  quei  diversi  in  povertate  e  'n  guerra! 

1  La  Casa,  Canzone  4  (Opp.  i.  151). 


282  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

This  makes  the  occasional  treatment  of  political  sub- 
jects the  more  valuable;  and  we  hail  the  patriotic 
poems  of  Giovanni  Guidiccioni  as  a  relief  from  the 
limpid  nonsense  of  the  amourists.  Born  at  Lucca  in 
i5oo,  he  was  made  Bishop  of  Fossombrone  by  Paul- 
III.,  and  died  in  1641.  Contemporaries  praised  him 
for  the  grandeur  of  his  conceptions  and  the  severity  of 
his  diction,  while  they  censured  the  obscurity  that 
veiled  his  unfamiliar  thoughts.  "  In  those  songs," 
writes  Lilius  Giraldus,  "  which  he  composed  upon  the 
woes  and  miseries  of  Italy,  he  set  before  his  readers 
ample  proofs  of  his  illustrious  style." l  One  sonnet 
might  be  chosen  from  these  rhymes,  reproving  the 
Italians  for  their  slavery  and  shame,  and  pointing  to 
the  cause,  now  irremediable,  of  their  downfall2: 

From  deep  and  slothful  slumber,  where  till  now 

Entombed  thou  liest,  waken,  breathe,  arise! 

Look  on  those  wounds  with  anger  in  thine  eyes, 

Italia,  self-enslaved  in  folly's  slough! 
The  diadem  of  freedom  from  thy  brow 

Torn  through  thine  own  misdoing,  seek  with  sighs; 

Turn  to  the  path,  that  straight  before  thee  lies, 

From  yonder  crooked  furrow  thou  dost  plow. 
Think  on  thine  ancient  memories!     Thou  shalt  see 

That  those  who  once  thy  triumphs  did  adorn, 

Have  chained  thee  to  their  yoke  with  fetters  bound. 
Foe  to  thyself,  thine  own  iniquity, 

With  fame  for  them,  for  thee  fierce  grief  and  scorn, 

To  this  vile  end  hath  forced  thee,  Queen  discrowned! 

Such  appeals  were  impotent.  Yet  they  proved  a  con- 
sciousness of  the  situation",  an  unextinguished  sense  of 
duty,  in  the  man  who  penned  them.3 

i  De  Poetis,  Dial.  ii. 

*  Opere  di  Messer  G.  Guidiccioni  (Firenze,  Barbera,  1867),  vol.  i. 
p.  12. 

3  We  might  parallel  Guidiccioni's  lamentations  with  several  passages 


GUIDICCIONI  AND    CARO.  28? 

The  Court-life  followed  by  professional  men  of 
letters  made  it  difficult  for  them  to  utter  their  real 
feelings  in  an  age  of  bitter  political  jealousies.  They 
either  held  their  tongues,  or  kept  within  the  safer 
regions  of  compliment  and  fancy.  The  biographies  of 
Annibale  Caro  and  Lodovico  Castelvetro  illustrate 
the  ordinary  conditions  as  well  as  the  exceptional 
vicissitudes  of  the  literary  career  at  this  epoch.  Anni- 
bale Caro  was  born  in  1607  at  Civitanuova  in  the 
March  of  Ancona.  Being  poor  and  of  humble  origin, 
he  entered  the  family  of  Luigi  Gaddi  at  Florence,  in 
the  quality  of  tutor  to  his  children.  This  patron  died 
in  1641,  and  Caro  then  took  service  under  Pier  Luigi 
Farnese,  one  of  the  worst  princelings  of  the  period. 
When  the  Duke  was  murdered  in  1547,  he  transferred 
himself  to  Parma,  still  following  the  fortunes  of  the 
Farnesi.  Employed  as  secretary  by  the  Cardinal 
Ranuccio  and  afterwards  by  the  Cardinal  Alessandro  of 
that  house,  he  lived  at  ease  until  his  death  in  i566. 
Caro's  letters,  written  for  his  patrons,  and  his  corre- 
spondence with  the  famous  scholars  of  the  day,  pass 
for  models  of  Italian  epistolography.  Less  rigid 
than  La  Casa's,  less  manneristic  than  Bembo's,  his 
style  is  distinguished  by  a  natural  grace  and  elegance 
of  diction.  He  formed  his  manner  by  translation  from 
the  Greek,  especially  by  a  version  of  Daphnis  and 
Chloe,  which  may  be  compared  with  Firenzuola's 

from  the  Latin  elegies  of  the  period,  and  with  some  of  the  obscurer  com- 
positions of  Italian  poetasters.  See,  for  example,  the  extracts  from 
Cariteo  of  Naples,  Tibaldeo  of  Ferrara,  and  Cammelli  of  Pistoja  on  the 
passage  of  Charles  VIII.  quoted  by  Carducci,  Delle  Poesie  Latine  di 
Ludovico  Ariosto,  pp.  83-86.  But  the  most  touching  expression  of 
sympathy  with  Italy's  disaster  is  the  sudden  silence  of  Boiardo  in  the 
middle  of  a  canto  of  Orlando.  See  above,  part  i.  p.  463. 


284  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Asino  d*  Oro  for  classic  beauty  and  facility  of  phrase. 
But  the  great  achievement  of  his  life  was  a  transcription 
of  the  AlMeid  into  blank  verse.  Though  Caro's  poem 
exceeds  the  original  by  about  5,5oo  lines,  and  therefore 
cannot  pass  for  an  exact  copy  of  Virgil's  form,  Italians 
still  reckon  it  the  standard  translation  of  their  national 
epic.  The  charm  of  Caro's  prose  was  communicated 
to  his  versi  sciolti,  always  easy,  always  flowing,  with 
varied  cadence  and  sustained  melody  of  rhythm.  A 
Diceria  de  Nasi,  or  discourse  on  noses,  and  a  dis- 
sertation called  Ficheide>  commenting  on  Molza's 
Fichi,  prove  that  Caro  lent  himself  with  pleasure  to 
the  academical  follies  of  his  contemporaries.  It  seems 
incredible  that  a  learned  man,  who  had  spent  the  best 
years  of  his  maturity  in  diplomatic  missions  to  the 
Courts  of  princes,  should  have  employed  the  leisure  of 
his  age  in  polishing  these  trifles.  Yet  such  was  the 
temper  of  the  times  that  this  frivolity  passed  for  a 
commendable  exercise  of  ingenuity. 

Caro's  original  poems  have  not  much  to  recommend 
them  beyond  limpidity  of  language.  The  sonnets  to 
an  imaginary  mistress  repeat  conventional  antitheses 
and  complimentary  concetti}-  The  adulatory  odes  are 
stiff  and  labored,  as,  indeed,  they  might  be,  when  we 
consider  that  they  were  made  to  order  upon  Charles  V., 
the  Casa  Farnese,  and  the  lilies  of  France,  by  a  plebeian 
scholar  from  Ancona.2  The  last-named  of  these 
flatteries,  "  Venite  all'  ombra  de'  gran  gigli  d'  oro,"  is  a 

1  See,  for  example,  "  Donna,  qual  mi  foss'  io,"  and  "  In  voi  mi  tras- 
formai,"  or  "Eran  1'  aer  tranquillo  e  1'  onde  chiare." 

3  See  "Carlo  il  Quinto  fu  questi ";  "Nell"  apparir  del  giorno";  and 
"Venite  all'  ombra  de'  gran  gigli  d'  oco." 


CARO   AND    CASTELVETRO.  285 

masterpiece  of  prize  poetry,  produced  with  labor,  filed 
to  superficial  smoothness,  and  overloaded  with  conceits. 
On  its  appearance  it  was  hailed  with  acclamation  as 
the  final  triumph  of  Italian  writing.  The  Farnesi,  who 
had  recently  placed  themselves  under  the  protection  of 
France,  and  who  bore  her  lilies  on  their  scutcheon, 
used  all  their  influence  to  get  their  servant's  work 
applauded.  The  Academies  were  delighted  with  a  dis- 
play of  consummate  artifice  and  mechanical  ability. 
One  only  voice  was  raised  in  criticism.  Aurelio  Bel- 
lincini,  a  gentleman  of  Modena,  had  sent  a  copy  of  the 
ode  to  Lodovico  Castelvetro,  with  a  request  that  he 
should  pronounce  upon  its  merits.  Castelvetro,  who 
was  wayward  and  independent  beyond  the  usual  pru- 
dence of  his  class,  replied  with  a  free  censure  of  the 
"  plebeian  diction,  empty  phrases,  strange  digressions, 
purple  patches,  poverty  of  argument,  and  absence  of 
sentiment  or  inspiration,"  he  detected  in  its  stanzas. 
At  the  same  time  he  begged  his  friend  to  keep  this 
criticism  to  himself.  Bellincini  was  indiscreet,  and  the 
letter  found  its  way  to  Caro.  Then  arose  a  literary 
quarrel,  which  held  all  Italy  in  suspense,  and  equaled 
in  ferocity  the  combats  of  the  humanists. 

Lodovico  Castelvetro  was  born  in  i5o5  at  Modena. 
He  studied  successively  at  Bologna,  Ferrara,  Padua, 
and  Siena.  Thence  he  passed  to  Rome,  where  strong 
pressure  was  put  upon  him  to  enter  orders.  His  uncle, 
Giovanni  Maria  della  Porta,  promised,  if  he  did  so, 
to  procure  for  him  the  bishopric  of  Gubbio.  But 
Castelvetro  had  no  mind  to  become  a  priest.  He 
escaped  clandestinely  from  Rome,  and,  after  a  brief 
sojourn  at  Siena,  returned  to  Modena.  Here  in  1642 


286  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

he  subscribed  the  Formulary  of  Faith  dictated  by 
Cardinal  Contarini,  and  thereby  fell  under  suspicion  of 
heresy.  Though  he  escaped  inquisitorial  censure  at 
the  moment,  the  charges  of  Lutheranism  were  revived 
in  1 5 54,  when  Caro  declared  open  war  against  him. 
Invectives,  apologies,  censures,  and  replies  were  briskly 
interchanged  between  the  principals,  while  half  the 
scholars  of  Italy  allowed  themselves  to  be  drawn  into 
the  fray — Varchi  and  Molza  siding  with  Caro,  Gian  Maria 
Barbieri  and  other  friends  of  Castelvetro  taking  up  the 
cudgels  for  the  opposite  champion.1  The  bitterness  of 
the  contending  parties  may  be  gathered  from  the  fact 
that  Castelvetro  was  accused  of  having  murdered  a 
friend  of  Caro's,  and  Caro  of  having  hired  assassins  to 
take  Castelvetro's  life.2  It  seems  tolerably  certain  that 
either  Caro  or  one  of  his  supporters  denounced  their 
enemy  to  the  Inquisition.  He  was  summoned  to 
Rome,  and  in  i56o  was  confined  in  the  convent  of  S. 
Maria  in  Via  to  await  his  trial.  After  undergoing  some 
preliminary  examinations,  Castelvetro  became  persuaded 
that  his  life  was  in  peril.  He  contrived  to  escape  by 
night  from  Rome,  and,  after  a  journey  of  much  anxiety 
and  danger,  took  refuge  in  Chiavenna,  at  that  time  a 
city  of  the  Grisons.  The  Holy  Office  condemned  him 
as  a  contumacious  heretic  in  his  absence.  Wandering 
from  Chiavenna  to  Lyons  and  Geneva,  and  back  again 

>  Among  the  liveliest  missiles  used  in  this  squabble  are  Bronzino's 
Saltarelli,  recently  reprinted  byRomagnoli,  Bologna,  1863. 

»  Alberigo  Longo  was  in  fact  murdered  in  1555,  and  a  servant  of 
Castelvetro's  was  tried  for  the  offense.  But  he  was  acquitted.  Caro, 
on  his  side,  gave  occasion  to  the  worst  reports  by  writing  in  May  1560 
to  Varchi:  "  E  credo  che  all'  ultimo  sarb  sforzato  a  finirla,  per  ogni  altra 
via,  e  vengane  cib  che  vuole."  See  Tiraboschi,  Part  3,  lib.  iii.  chap.  3, 
sec.  13. 


A    LITERARY  DUEL.  287 

to  Chiavenna,  he  spent  the  rest  of  his  life  in  exile,  and 
died  at  the  last  place  in  1571. 

Castelvetro's  publications  do  not  correspond  to  his 
fame;  for  though  he  gave  signs  of  an  acute  wit  and  a 
biting  pen  in  his  debate  with  Caro,  he  left  but  little 
highly-finished  work  to  posterity.  In  addition  to 
critical  annotations  upon  Bembo's  prose,  published  in 
his  lifetime,  he  wrote  a  treatise  upon  Rhetoric,  which 
was  printed  at  Modena  in  1653,  and  sent  an  Italian 
version  of  Aristotle's  Poetics  to  the  press  in  i5/o. 
This  book  was  the  idol  of  his  later  years.  It  is  said 
that,  while  residing  at  Lyons,  his  house  took  fire,  and 
Castelvetro,  careless  of  all  else,  kept  crying  out  "  The 
Poetics,  the  Ppetics  !  Save  me  my  Poetics  /"  He  may 
be  fairly  reckoned  among  the  men  who  did  solid  ser- 
vice in  the  cause  of  graver  studies.  Yet,  but  for  the 
vicissitudes  of  his  career,  he  could  hardly  claim  a  fore- 
most place  in  literary  history. 

The  ladies  who  cultivated  poetry  and  maintained 
relations  with  illustrious  men  of  letters  at  this  epoch, 
were  almost  as  numerous  as  the  songsters  of  the  other 
sex.  Lodovico  Domenichi  in  the  year  i55g  published 
the  poems  of  no  less  than  fifty  authoresses  in  his  Rime 
di  alcune  nobilissime  e  virtuosissime  Donne.  Subjected 
to  the  same  intellectual  training  as  men,  they  felt  the 
same  influences,  and  passed  at  the  same  moment  from 
humanism  to  renascent  Italian  literature.1  Many  of 

1  The  identity  of  male  and  female  education  in  Italy  is  an  important 
feature  of  this  epoch.  The  history  of  Vittorino  da  Feltre's  school  at 
Mantua  given  by  his  biographer,  Rosmini,  supplies  valuable  information 
upon  this  point.  Students  may  consult  Burckhardt,  Cultur  der  Renais- 
sance, sec.  5,  ed.  2,  p.  312;  Gregorovius,  Lucrezia  Borgia,  book  i.  sec. 
4;  Janitschek,  Gcsellschaft  der  Renaissance,  Lecture  3. 


288  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

these  Viragos,1  as  it  was  the  fashion  of  the  age  ap- 
provingly and  with  no  touch  of  sarcasm  to  call  them, 
were  dames  of  high  degree  and  leaders  of  society. 
Some,  like  la  bella  Imperia,  were  better  known  in  the 
resorts  of  pleasure.  All  were  distinguished  by  inter- 
course with  artists  and  writers  of  eminence.  It  is  im- 
possible to  render  an  account  of  their  literary  labors. 
But  the  names  of  a  few,  interesting  alike  for  their 
talents  and  their  amours,  may  here  be  recorded. 
Tullia  di  Aragona,  the  mistress  of  Girolamo  Muzio, 
who  ruled  society  in  Rome,  and  lived  in  infamy  at 
Venice2 — Vittoria  Accoramboni,  whose  tragedy  thrilled 
Italy,  and  gave  a  masterpiece  to  our  Elizabethan  stage 

-Tarquinia  Molza,  grand-daughter  of  the  poet,  and 
maid  of  honor  at  Ferrara  in  Guarini's  brilliant  days 
— Laura  Terracina,  with  whose  marriage  and  murder 
romance  employed  itself  at  the  expense  of  probability 

—Veronica  Franco,  who  entertained  Montaigne  in  her 
Venetian  home  in  i58o — Ersilia  Cortese,  the  natural 
daughter  of  a  humanist  and  wife  of  a  Pope's  nephew 
— Gaspara  Stampa,  "  sweet  songstress  and  most  excel- 
lent musician": — such  were  the  women,  to  whom 
Bembo  and  Aretino  addressed  letters,  and  whose 
drawing-rooms  were  the  resort  of  Bandello's  heroes. 

Two  poetesses  have  to  be  distinguished  from  the 
common  herd.  These  are  Veronica  Gambara  and 
Vittoria  Colonna.  Veronica  was  the  daughter  of 
Count  Gianfrancesco  Gambara  and  his  wife  Alda  Pia 
of  Carpi,  whose  name  recalls  the  fervid  days  of 

'  See  Vulgate,  Gen.  ii.  23:  "  Haec  vocabitur  Virago,"  etc. 

8  In  a  rare  tract  called  Tariffa  delle puttane,  etc.,  Tullia  d'  Aragona 
is  catalogued  among  the  courtesans  of  Venice.  See  Passano,  Novel- 
tier  i  in  Verso,  p.  1 1 8. 


POETESSES;    VERONICA    GAMBARA.  '  289 

humanism  at  its  noon.1  She  was  born  in  1485,  and 
was  therefore  contemporary  with  the  restorers  of 
Italian  literature.  Bembo  was  the  guide  of  her  youth, 
and  Vittoria  Colonna  the  friend  of  her  maturer  years. 
In  1609  she  married  Giberto,  lord  of  Correggio,  by 
whom  she  had  two  sons,  Ippolito  and  Girolamo.  Her 
husband  died  after  nine  years  of  matrimony,  and  she 
was  left  to  educate  her  children  for  the  State  and 
Church.  She  discharged  her  duties  as  a  mother  with 
praiseworthy  diligence,  and  died  in  i55o,  respected  by 
all  Italy,  the  type  of  what  a  noble  woman  should  be 
in  an  age  when  virtue  shone  by  contrast  with  especial 
luster.  Her  letters  and  her  poems  were  collected  and 
published  in  1759  at  Brescia,  the  city  of  her  birth. 
Except  for  the  purity  of  their  sentiments  and  the  sin- 
cerity of  their  expression,  her  verses  do  not  rise  far 
above  mediocrity.  Like  literary  ladies  of  the  French 
metropolis,  she  owed  her  fame  to  personal  rather  than 
to  literary  excellence.  "  The  house  of  Veronica,"  writes 
a  biographer  of  the  sixteenth  century,  "  was  an 
Academy,  where  every  day  she  gathered  round  her 
for  discourse  on  noble  questions  Bembo  and  Cappello, 
Molza  and  Mauro,  and  all  the  famous  men  of  Europe 
who  followed  the  Italian  Courts."  2 

Fabrizio,  the  father  of  Vittoria  Colonna,  was  Grand 
Constable  of  Naples.  He  married  Agnesina  di 
Montefeltro,  daughter  of  Duke  Federigo  of  Urbino. 
Their  child  Vittoria  was  born  at  Marino,  a  feud  of  the 
Colonna  family,  in  the  year  1490.  At  the  age  of  four 
she  was  betrothed  to  Ferrante  Francesco  D'  Avalos,  a 

1  See  Revival  of  Learning,  p.  375. 

2  Rinaldo  Corso,  quoted  by  Tiraboschi. 


290  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

boy  of  the  same  age,  the  only  son  of  the  Marchese  di 
Pescara.  His  father  died  while  he  was  still  a  child: 
and  in  their  nineteenth  year  the  affianced  couple  were 
married  at  Ischia,  the  residence  of  the  house  of 
D'  Avalos.  The  splendor  of  two  princely  families, 
alike  distinguished  in  the  annals  of  Spanish  and  Italian 
history  and  illustrious  by  their  military  honors, 
conferred  unusual  luster  upon  this  marriage.  It  was, 
moreover,  on  the  bride's  side  at  least,  a  love-match. 
Vittoria  was  beautiful  and  cultivated;  the  young 
Marquis  of  Pescara  chivalrous  and  brave.  She  was 
tenderly  attached  to  him,  and  he  had  not  as  yet 
revealed  the  darker  side  of  his  mixed  character.  Yet 
their  happiness  proved  of  very  short  duration.  In 
1 5 1 2  he  was  wounded  and  made  prisoner  at  the  battle 
of  Ravenna;  and  though  he  returned  to  his  wife  for  a 
short  interval,  his  duties  again  called  him  to  the  field 
of  war  in  Lombardy  in  i5i5.  Vittoria  never  saw  him 
after  this  date;  and  before  his  death  the  honor  of  her 
hero  was  tarnished  by  one  of  the  darkest  deeds  of 
treason  recorded  in  Italian  history.  Acting  as  general 
for  the  Spanish  emperor,  the  Marquis  entered  Milan 
immediately  after  the  battle  of  Pavia  in  i525.  He 
there  and  then  began  his  intrigues  with  Girolamo 
Morone,  Grand  Chancellor  of  Francesco  Sforza's 
duchy.  Morone  had  formed  a  plan  for  reinstating  his 
master  in  Milan  by  the  help  of  an  Italian  coalitio^ 
With  the  view  of  securiog  the  Marquis  of  Pescara,  by 
which  bold  stroke  he  would  have  paralyzed  the  Spanish 
military  power,  Morone  offered  the  young  general  the 
crown  of  Naples,  if  he  would  consent  to  join  the  league. 
D'  Avalos  turned  a  not  unwilling  ear  to  these  pro- 


VITTORIA    COLONNA    AND   HER   HUSBAND.  291 

posals ;  but  while  the  plot  was  hatching,  he  saw  good 
reason  to  doubt  of  its  success,  and  determined  to  clear 
himself  with  Charles  V.  by  revealing  the  conspiracy. 
Accordingly,  he  made  his  lieutenant,  Antonio  de  Leyva, 
assist  at  a  privy  conference  between  Morone  and  him- 
self. Concealed  behind  the  arras,  this  Spanish  officer 
heard  enough  to  be  able  afterwards  to  deliver  direct 
testimony  against  the  conspirators,  while  the  Marquis 
averred  that  he  had  led  them  on  designedly  to  this 
end.  It  may  be  difficult  to  estimate  the  precise 
amount  of  Pescara's  guilt.  But  whether  he  was 
deceiving  Morone  from  the  first,  or  whether,  as  seems 
more  probable,  he  entered  the  negotiation  resolved  to 
side  with  Charles  or  with  the  League  as  best  might 
suit  his  purpose,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  played 
an  odious  part  in  this  transaction.  He  did  not  long 
survive  the  treason ;  for  his  constitution  had  been 
ruined  by  wounds  received  at  Pavia.  It  was  also 
rumored  that  Charles  accelerated  his  death  by  poison. 
He  died  on  November  25,  i525,  execrated  by  the 
Italians,  and  handed  down  by  their  historians  to  perpe- 
tual infamy.  Something  of  national  jealousy  mingled 
undoubtedly  in  their  resentment.  D'  Avalos  was  a  Spa- 
niard, and  made  no  concealment  of  his  contempt  for  the 
Italian  character.  Finally,  it  must  be  admitted  that  if 
he  really  was  acting  throughout  in  his  master's  interest, 
his  betrayal  of  Morone  was  but  a  bold  stroke  of 
policy  which  Machiavelli  might  have  approved.  The 
game  was  a  dangerous  one;  but  it  was  thoroughly 
consistent  with  statecraft  as  then  understood.1 

i  See  Ricordi  Inediti  di  Gerolamo  Morone,  pubblicati  dal  C.  Tullio 
Daudolo,  Milano,  1855. 


292  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

No  suspicion  of  her  husband's  guilt  seems  to  have 
crossed  Vittoria  Colonna's  mind.  Though  left  so 
young  a  widow,  beautiful  and  illustrious  by  her  high 
rank  and  education,  she  determined  to  consecrate  her 
whole  life  to  his  memory  and  to  religion.  She  sur- 
vived him  two-and-twenty  years,  which  were  spent 
partly  in  retirement  at  Ischia,  partly  in  convents  at 
Orvieto  and  Viterbo,  partly  in  a  semi-monastic  seclu- 
sion at  Rome.  While  still  a  girl  and  during  her  hus- 
band's absence  in  the  field,  she  had  amused  her  leisure 
with  study.  This  now  became  her  chief  resource  in 
the  hours  she  spared  from  pious  exercises.  There 
was  no  man  of  great  name  in  the  world  of  letters  who 
did  not  set  his  pride  on  being  thought  her  friend.  The 
collections  of  letters  and  poems  belonging  to  that 
period  abound  in  allusions  to  her  genius,  her  holiness, 
and  her  great  beauty.  But  her  chief  associates  were 
the  group  of  earnest  thinkers  who  felt  the  influences  of 
the  Reformation  without  ceasing  to  be  children  of  the 
Church.  With  Vittoria  Colonna's  name  are  insepar-' 
ably  connected  those  of  Gasparo  Contarini,  Reginald 
Pole,  Giovanni  Morone,  Jacopo  Sadoleto,  Marcantonio 
Flamminio,  Pietro  Carnesecchi,  and  Fra  Bernardino 
Ochino.  The  last  of  these  avowed  his  Lutheran  prin- 
ciples ;  and  Carnesecchi  was  burned  for  heresy ;  but 
Vittoria  never  adopted  Protestantism  in  any  of  its 
dogmatic  aspects.  She  remained  an  orthodox  Catholic 
to  the  last,  although  it  seems  tolerably  certain  that  she 
was  by  no  means  ignorant  of  the  new  doctrines  nor 
unsympathetic  to  their  spirit.1  Her  attitude  was  prob- 

1  The  most  recent  investigations  tend  rather  to  confirm  the  tradition 
of  Vittoria's  Lutheran  leanings.     See  Giuseppe  Campori's  Vittoria  Co- 


VITTORIA'S    WIDOWHOOD.  293 

ably  the  same  as  that  of  many  Italians  who,  before 
the  opening  of  the  Council  of  Trent,  desired  a  reforma- 
tion from  within  the  Church.  To  bring  it  back  to 
purer  morals  and  an  evangelical  sincerity  of  faith,  was 
their  aim.  Like  Savonarola,  they  shrank  from  heresy, 
and  failed  to  comprehend  that  a  radical  renovation  of 
religion  was  inseparable,  in  the  changed  conditions  of 
modern  thought,  from  a  metamorphosis  of  dogma  and 
a  new  freedom  accorded  to  the  individual  conscience. 
While  the  Teutonic  world  struck  boldly  for  the  libera- 
tion of  the  reason,  the  Italians  dreamed  of  an  impos- 
sible harmony  between  Catholicism  and  philosophy. 
Their  compromises  led  to  ethical  hypocrisies  and  to 
that  dogmatic  despotism  which  was  confirmed  by  the 
Tridentine  Council. 

A  pleasant  glimpse  into  Vittoria's  life  at  Rome  is 
given  by  the  Portuguese  artist,  Francesco  d'  Olanda, 
who  visited  her  about  the  year  1648.  "Madonna 
Vittoria  Colonna,"  he  says,  "  Marchioness  of  Pescara 
and  sister  to  the  Lord  Antonio  Colonna,  is  one  of  the 
most  excellent  and  famous  women  of  Europe, — that  is, 
of  the  whole  civilized  world.  Not  less  chaste  than 
beautiful,  learned  in  Latin  literature  and  full  of  genius, 
she  possesses  all  the  qualities  and  virtues  that  are 
praiseworthy  in  woman.  After  the  death  of  her  hero 
husband,  she  now  leads  a  modest  and  retired  life. 
Tired  with  the  splendor  and  grandeur  of  her  former 
state,  she  gives  her  whole  affections  to  Christ  and  to 
serious  studies.  To  the  poor  she  is  beneficent,  and  is 

lonna  (Modena,  1878),  and  the  fine  article  upon  it  by  Ernesto  Masi  in 
the  Rassegna  Settimanale,  January  29,  1879.  Karl  Benrath's  Ueber  die 
Quellen  der  italienischen  Reformationsgeschichte  (Bonn,  1876)  is  a  val- 
uable contribution  to  the  history  of  Lutheran  opinion  in  the  South. 


294  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

a  model  of  true  Catholic  devotion."  He  then  proceeds 
to  describe  a  conversation  held  with  her,  in  which 
Michelangelo  Buonarroti  took  a  part.1 

Vittoria  Colonna's  Rime  consist  for  the  most  part 
of  sonnets  on  the  death  of  her  husband,  and  on  sacred 
and  moral  subjects.  Penetrated  by  genuine  feeling 
and  almost  wholly  free  from  literary  affectation,  they 
have  that  dignity  and  sweetness  which  belongs  to  the 
spontaneous  utterance  of  a  noble  heart.  Like  the 
poets  of  an  earlier  and  simpler  age,  Vittoria  listens  to 
the  voice  of  Love,  and  when  he  speaks,  records  the 
thoughts  dictated  by  his  inspiration.2  That  the  object 
of  her  life-long  regret  was  unworthy  of  her,  does  not 
offend  our  sense  of  fitness.3  It  is  manifest  that  her 
own  feeling  for  the  Marquis  of  Pescara,  il  mio  bel  sole, 
mio  lume  eterno,  as  she  loves  to  call  him  with  pathetic 
iteration  of  the  chosen  metaphor,  had  satisfied  her  un- 
suspecting nature.4  Death  consecrates  her  husband 
for  Vittoria,  as  death  canonized  Laura  for  Petrarch. 

»  The  whole  document  may  be  seen  in  the  Archivio  Storico,  nuov. 
ser.  torn.  v.  part  2,  p.  139,  or  in  Grimm's  Life  of  Michelangelo. 

*  The  first  lines  of  the  introductory  sonnet  are  strictly  true: 

Scrivo  sol  per  sfogar  1'  interna  doglia, 
Di  che  si  pasce  il  cor,  ch'  altro  non  vole, 
E  non  per  giunger  lume  al  mio  bel  sole, 
Che  lascio  in  terra  si  onorata  spoglia. 

»  The  last  biographer  of  Vittoria  Colonna,  G.  Campori,  has  shown 
that  her  husband  was  by  no  means  faithful  to  his  marriage  vows. 

*  The  close  of  the  twenty-second  sonnet  is  touching  by  reason  of  its 
allusion  to  the  past.     Vittoria  had  no  children. 

Sterili  i  corpi  fur,  1'  alme  feconde, 

Che  il  suo  valor  lascio  raggio  si  chiaro, 

Che  sara  lume  ancor  del  nome  mio. 
Se  d'  altre  grazie  mi  fu  il  ciel  avaro, 

E  se  il  mio  caro  ben  morte  m'  asconde, 

Pur  con  lui  vivo;  ed  e  quanto  disio. 


VITTORIA1  S  LYRICS.  295 

He  has  become  divine,  and  her  sole  desire  is  to  rejoin 
him  in  a  world  where  parting  is  impossible.1  The 
blending  of  the  hero  with  the  saint,  of  earthly  fame 
with  everlasting  glory,  in  this  half  Christian  half 
Pagan  apotheosis,  is  characteristic  of  the  Renaissance. 
Michelangelo  strikes  the  same  note  in  the  Capitolo 
upon  his  father's  death :  ,"  Or  sei  tu  del  morir  morto  e 
fatto  divo."  It  is  said  that,  in  her  first  grief,  Vittoria 
thought  of  suicide  as  the  means  of  escaping  from  this 
world.  But  she  triumphed  over  the  temptation,  and 
in  Bembo's  words  proved  herself  vincitrice  di  se  stessa. 
We  seem  to  trace  the  anguish  of  that  struggle  in  a 
sonnet  which  may  possibly  have  suggested  Bembo's 
phrase.2 

The  religious  sonnets  are  distinguished  in  general 
by  the  same  simplicity  and  sincerity  of  style.3  While 
Vittoria  proves  herself  a  Catholic  by  her  invocation  of 
Madonna  and  S.  Francis,4  it  is  to  the  cross  of  Christ 
that  she  turns  with  the  deepest  outgoings  of  pious 
feeling.5  Her  cry  is  for  lively  faith,  for  evangelical 
purity  of  conviction.  There  is  nothing  in  these  medi- 
tations that  a  Christian  of  any  communion  may  not 
read  with  profit,  as  the  heartfelt  utterances  of  a  soul 
athirst  for  God  and  nourished  on  the  study  of  the 
Gospel. 

1  See,  for  instance,  Rime  Varie,  Sonetto  li.  and  Ixxi.  xc. 

2  It  is  No.  31  of  the  Rime  Varie  (Florence,  Barbera,  1860). 

3  The  introductory  Sonnet  has,  however,  these  ugly  concetti: 

I  santi  chiodi  ormai  sian  le  mie  penne, 
E  puro  inchiostro  il  prezioso  sangue; 
Purgata  carta  il  sacro  corpo  esangue, 
Si  ch'  io  scriva  nel  cor  quel  ch'  ei  sostenne. 

4  Rime  Sacre,  119,  120,  86,  87. 
*  Ibid.  75,  80,  81. 


296  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

The  memory  of  Vittoria  Colonna  is  inseparable 
from  that  of  Michelangelo  Buonarroti,  who  was  her 
intimate  companion  during  the  closing  years  of  her 
life.  Of  that  famous  friendship  this  is  not  the  place 
to  speak  at  length.  It  may  be  enough  to  report  Con- 
divi's  words  about  Michelangelo's  grief  when  he  had 
lost  her.  "  I  remember  having  heard  him  say  that 
nothing  caused  him  so  much  sorrow  as  that,  when  he 
went  to  visit  her  upon  her  passage  from  this  life,  he 
had  not  kissed  her  forehead  and  face,  even  as  he  kissed 
her  hand.  Her  death  left  him  oftentimes  astonied  and, 
as  it  were,  deprived  of  reason."  Some  of  Michel- 
angelo's best  sonnets  were  composed  for  Vittoria 
Colonna  in  her  lifetime.  Others  record  his  sorrow 
for  her  loss.  Those  again  which  give  expression  to 
his  religious  feelings,  are  animated  by  her  spirit  of 
genuine  piety.  It  is  clear  that  her  influence  affected 
him  profoundly. 

To  include  any  notice  of  Michelangelo's  poetry  in 
a  chapter  devoted  to  the  purists,  may  seem  para- 
doxical.1 His  verses  are  remarkable  for  the  imperfec- 
tion of  their  style,  and  the  rugged  elevation  of  their 
thoughts.  With  the  school  of  Bembo  he  has  nothing 
in  common  except  that  Platonism  which  the  versifiers 
of  the  time  affected  as  a  fashion,  but  which  had  a  real 
meaning  for  his  creative  genius.  In  the  second  half 
of  the  sixteenth  century  Michelangelo's  sonnets  upon 
the  divine  idea,  lifting  the  soul  by  contemplation  to 
her  heavenly  home,  reach  our  ears  like  utterances 

1  For  a  brief  account  of  Michelangelo's  Rime,  see  Fine  Arts,  Ap- 
pendix ii.;  also  the  introduction  to  my  translation  of  the  sonnets,  The 
Sonnets  of  Michael  Angelo  Buonarroti  and  Tommaso  Campanella, 
Smith  and  Elder,  1878. 


BUONARROTPS  POETRY. 


297 


from  some  other  and  far  distant  age.  Both  in  form 
and  in  spirit  they  are  alien  to  the  cinque  cento.  Yet 
the  precisians  of  the  time  admired  these  uncouth  verses 
for  the  philosophic  depth  of  thought  they  found  in 
them.  Benedetto  Varchi  composed  a  learned  treatise 
on  the  sonnet  "  Non  ha  1'ottimo  artista" ;  and  when  the 
poems  were  printed,  Mario  Guidicci  delivered  two 
lectures  on  them  before  the  Florentine  Academy.1 

There  is  no  sort  of  impropriety  in  placing  Bernardo 
Tasso  and  Giangiorgio  Trissino  upon  the  list  of  literary 
purists.  The  biographies  of  these  two  men,  more 
interesting  for  the  share  they  took  in  public  life  than 
for  their  poetical  achievements,  shall  close  a  chapter 
which  has  been,  almost  of  necessity,  rambling.  Ber- 
nardo Tasso  was  a  member  of  the  noble  and  ancient 
Bergamasque  family  Dei  Tassi.2  He  was  born  at 
Venice  in  1493.  Left  an  orphan  in  his  early  child- 
hood, an  uncle  on  his  father's  side,  the  Bishop  of 
Recanati,  took  charge  of  him.  But  this  good  man 
was  murdered  in  1620,  at  the  time  when  Bernardo  had 
just  begun  a  brilliant  career  in  the  University  of  Padua. 
The  loss  of  his  father  and  his  uncle  threw  the  young 
student  on  the  world,  and  he  was  glad  to  take  service 
as  secretary  with  the  Count  Guido  Rangone.  At  this 
epoch  the  Rangoni  stood  high  among  the  first  nobility 
of  Italy,  and  Count  Guido  was  Captain-General  of  the 
Church.  He  employed  Bernardo  in  a  mission  to  Paris 
in  1628,  on  the  occasion  of  Ercole  d'  Este's  marriage 
to  Renee,  daughter  of  Louis  XII.  Tasso  went  to 

i  Varchi's  and  Guidicci's  Lezioni  will  be  found  in  Guasti's  edition 
of  the  Rime. 

*  I  use  the  Life  prefixed  by  G.  Campori  to  his  Lettere  Inedite  di  Ber- 
nardo Tasso  (Bologna,  Romagnoli,  1869). 


298  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

France  as  servant  of  the  Rangoni.  He  returned  to 
Italy  in  the  employment  of  the  Estensi.  But  he  did 
not  long  remain  at  the  Court  of  Ferrara.  About  the 
year  1632,  we  find  him  with  Ferrante  Sanseverino, 
Prince  of  Salerno,  whom  he  accompanied  in  1536  on 
the  expedition  to  Tunis.  It  cannot  have  been  much 
later  than  this  date  that  he  married  the  beautiful 
Porzia  de'  Rossi,  who  was  the  mother  of  his  illustrious 
son,  Torquato.  But  though  this  marriage  was  in  all 
respects  a  happy  one,  in  none  more  fortunate  than  in 
the  birth  of  Italy's  fourth  sovran  poet,  Bernardo  was 
not  destined  to  lead  a  life  of  tranquil  domesticity.  His 
master,  whom  he  followed  whithersoever  military  ser- 
vice called  him,  fell  out  of  favor  with  the  Spanish  Court 
in  1647.  Maddened  by  the  injustice  of  his  treatment, 
the  Prince  deserted  from  Charles  V.  to  his  rival, 
Francis,  was  declared  a  rebel  and  deprived  of  his  vast 
domains.  Bernardo  resolved  to  share  his  fortunes,  and 
in  return  for  this  act  of  loyalty,  found  himself  involved 
in  the  ruin  of  the  Sanseverini.  Henceforth  he  lived  a 
wandering  life,  away  from  Porzia  and  his  family,  and 
ill-contented  with  the  pittance  which  his  patron  could 
afford.  In  i556,  at  Duke  Guidubaldo's  invitation,  he 
joined  the  Court  of  Urbino;  and  again  in  1663  he 
entered  the  service  of  the  Duke  of  Mantua.  He  died 
in  1669  at  Ostiglia. 

It  will  be  seen  from  this  brief  sketch  that  Bernardo 
Tasso  spent  his  life  in  mixed  employments,  as  courtier, 
diplomatist,  and  military  secretary.  His  career  was 
analogous  to  that  of  many  nobly-born  Italians,  for 
whom  there  existed  no  sphere  outside  the  service  of  a 
prince.  Yet  he  found  time,  amid  his  journeys,  cam- 


BERNARDO    TASSO  AND    THE   AMADIGI.  299 

paigns  and  miscellaneous  Court  duties,  to  practice 
literature.  The  seven  books  of  his  collected  poems — 
sonnets,  odes  and  epithalamial  hymns — placed  him 
among  the  foremost  lyrists  of  the  century;  while  his 
letters  displayed  the  merits  which  were  usual  in  that 
species  of  composition.  Had  this  been  all,  he  would 
have  deserved  honorable  mention  by  the  side  of  Caro, 
on  a  somewhat  lower  level  than  Bembo.  But  he  was 
also  ambitious  of  giving  a  new  kind  of  epic  to  Italian 
literature.  With  this  view,  he  versified  the  Spanish 
romance  of  Amadis  of  Gaul  in  octave  stanzas.  The 
Amadigi  is  a  chivalrous  poem  in  the  style  of  the 
Orlando,  but  without  the  irony  of  Ariosto.1  It  cannot 
be  reckoned  a  success;  for  though  written  with  fertile 
fancy  and  a  flowing  vein,  its  prolixity  is  tedious. 
Tasso  lacked  the  art  of  sustaining  his  reader's  atten- 
tion. His  attempt  to  treat  the  ideal  of  feudalism 
seriously,  without  the  faith  and  freshness  of  the  chival- 
rous epoch,  deprived  his  work  of  that  peculiar  charm 
which  belongs  to  the  Italian  romantic  epic.  While 
still  in  MS.,  he  submitted  his  poem  to  literary  friends, 
and  read  it  at  the  Court  of  Urbino.  The  acclamation 
it  received  from  men  whose  literary  principles  coincided 
with  his  own,  raised  Tasso's  expectations  high.  He 
imagined  that  the  world  would  welcome  Amadigi  as  a 
masterpiece,  combining  the  interest  of  Orlando  with 
the  dignity  and  purity  of  a  classic.  When  it  appeared, 
however,  the  public  received  it  coldly,  and  on  this 
occasion  the  verdict  of  the  people  was  indubitably 

i  The  Amadigi  was  printed  by  Giolito  at  Venice  in  1560  under  the 
author's  own  supervision.  The  book  is  a  splendid  specimen  of  florid 
typography. 


300  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

right.  Another  mortification  awaited  the  author.  He 
had  dedicated  his  epic  to  Philip  II.  and  filled  its  cantos 
with  adulation  of  the  Spanish  race.  But  the  king  took 
no  notice  of  the  gift ;  and  two  years  after  the  publica- 
tion of  Amadigi,  it  appeared  that  Tasso's  agents  at  the 
Spanish  Court  had  not  taken  the  trouble  to  present 
him  with  a  copy.1 

Bernardo  Tasso  is  the  representative  of  a  class 
which  was  common  in  Renaissance  Italy,  when  court- 
iers and  men  of  affairs  devoted  their  leisure  to  study 
and  composed  poetry  upon  scholastic  principles.  His 
epic  failed  precisely  through  the  qualities  for  which 
he  prized  it.  Less  the  product  of  inspiration  than 
pedantic  choice,  it  bore  the  taint  of  languor  and  un- 
pardonable dullness.  Giangiorgio  Trissino,  in  the  cir- 
cumstances of  his  life  no  less  than -in  the  nature  of 
his  literary  work,  bears  a  striking  resemblance  to  the 
author  of  the  Amadigi.  The  main  difference  between 
the  two  men  is  that  Trissino  adopted  by  preference 
the  career  of  diplomacy  into  which  poverty  drove 
Tasso.2  He  was  born  at  Vicenza  in  1478  of  wealthy 
and  noble  ancestors,  from  whom  he  inherited  vast 
estates.  His  mother  was  Cecilia,  of  the  Bevilacqua 
family.  During  his  boyhood  Trissino  enjoyed  fewer 
opportunities  of  study  than  usually  fell  to  the  lot  of 
young  Italian  nobles.  He  spent  his  time  in  active 
exercises;  and  it  was  only  in  i5o6  that  he  began  his 
education  in  earnest.  At-this  date  he  had  been  married 

1  Besides  the  Amadigi,  Bernardo  Tasso  composed  a  second  narra- 
tive poem,  the  Floridante,  which  his  son,  Torquato,  retouched  and  pub- 
lished at  Mantua  in  1587. 

*  Giangiorgio  Trissino,  by  Bernardo  Morsolin  (Vicenza,  1878),  is  a 
copious  biography  and  careful  study  of  this  poet's  times. 


GIANGIORGIO    TRISSINO.  301 

nine  years,  and  had  already  lost  his  wife,  the  mother 
of  two  surviving  children,  Francesco  and  Giulio.1 

Trissino's  inclination  toward  literature  induced  him 
to  settle  at  Milan,  where  he  became  a  pupil  of  the 
veteran  Demetrius  Chalcondylas.  He  cultivated  the 
society  of  learned  men,  collected  MSS.,  and  devoted 
himself  to  the  study  of  Greek  philosophy.  From  the 
first,  he  showed  the  decided  partiality  for  erudition 
which  was  destined  to  rule  his  future  career.  But 
scholars  at  that  epoch,  even  though  they  might  be  men 
of  princely  fortune,  had  little  chance  of  uninterrupted 
leisure.  Trissino's  estates  gave  him  for  a  while  as 
much  trouble  as  poverty  had  brought  on  Tasso. 
Vicenza  was  allotted  to  the  Empire  in  1609;  and 
afterwards,  when  the  city  gave  itself  to  the  Venetian 
Republic,  Trissino's  adherence  to  Maximilian's  party 
cost  him  some  months  of  exile  in  Germany  and  the 
temporary  confiscation  of  his  property.  Between  i5io 
and  1614,  after  his  return  from  Germany,  but  before  he 
made  his  peace  with  Venice,  Trissino  visited  Ferrara, 
Florence  and  Rome.  These  years  determined  his  life 
as  a  man  of  letters.  The  tragedy  of  Sofonisba,  which 
was  written  before  i5i5,  won  for  its  author  a  place 
among  the  foremost  poets  of  the  time.2  The  same 
period  decided  his  future  as  a  courtier.  Leo  X.  sent 
him  on  a  mission  to  Bavaria,  and  upon  his  return  pro- 
cured his  pardon  from  the  Republic  of  S.  Mark. 
There  is  not  much  to  be  gained  by  following  the  intricate 
details  of  Trissino's  public  career.  After  Leo's  death, 
he  was  employed  by  Clement  VII.  and  Paul  III.  He 
assisted  at  the  coronation  of  Charles  V.,  and  on  this 

J  Francesco  died  in  1514.  s  See  above,  pp.  126-128. 


302  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

occasion  was  made  Knight  and  Count,  Gradually  he 
assumed  the  style  of  a  finished  courtier;  and  though 
he  never  took  pay  from  his  Papal  or  princely  masters, 
no  poet  carried  the  art  of  adulation  further.1 

This  self-subjection  to  the  annoyances  and  indig- 
nities of  Court-life  is  all  the  more  remarkable  because 
Trissino  continued  to  live  like  a  great  noble.  When  he 
traveled,  he  was  followed  by  a  retinue  of  servants. 
A  chaplain  attended  him  for  the  celebration  of  Mass. 
His  litter  was  furnished  with  silver  plate,  and  with 
all  the  conveniences  of  a  magnificent  household.  His 
own  cook  went  before,  with  couriers,  to  prepare  his 
table ;  and  the  equipage  included  a  train  of  sumpter- 
mules  and  serving-men  in  livery.2  At  home,  in  his 
palace  at  Vicenza  or  among  his  numerous  villas,  he 
showed  no  less  magnificence.  Upon  the  building  of 
one  country-house  at  Cricoli,  which  he  designed  him- 
self and  surrounded  with  the  loveliest  Italian  gardens, 
enormous  sums  were  spent;  and  when  the  structure 
was  completed,  he  opened  it  to  noble  friends,  who 
lived  with  him  at  large  and  formed  an  Academy  called 
after  him  La  Trissiniana.3  Trissino  was,  moreover,  a 
diligent  student  and  a  lover  of  solitude.  He  spent 
many  years  of  his  life  upon  the  island  of  Murano,  in  a 
villa  secluded  from  the  world,  and  open  to  none  but  a 
few  guests  of  similar  tastes.4  Yet  in  spite  of  the 
advantages  which  fortune  gave  him,  in  spite  of  his 
studious  habits,  he  coirld  not  resist  the  attraction 

'  See  Morsolin,  op.  cif.,  p.  360,  for  Trissino's  own  emphatic  state- 
ment that  his  services  had  been  unpaid.  Ibid.  p.  344,  for  a  list  of  the 
personages  he  complimented. 

*  Ibid.  p.  323. 

»  Ibid.  pp.  219-235.  4  Ibid.  p.  301. 


COURTIER   AND    STUDENT. 


3°3 


which  Courts  at  that  epoch  exercised  over  men  of 
birth  and  breeding  throughout  Europe.  He  was  for 
ever  returning  to  Rome,  although  he  expressed  the 
deepest  horror  for  the  corruptions  of  that  sinful  city.1 
No  sooner  had  he  established  himself  in  quiet  among 
the  woods  and  streams  of  the  Vicentine  lowlands  or 
upon  the  breast  of  the  Venetian  lagoons,  than  the 
hankering  to  shine  before  a  Prince  came  over  him,  and 
he  resumed  his  march  to  Ferrara,  or  made  his  bow 
once  more  in  the  Vatican. 

The  end  of  Trissino's  life  was  troubled  by  a  quarrel 
with  his  son  Giulio,  in  which  it  is  difficult  to  decide 
whether  the  father  or  the  son  was  more  to  blame. 
Some  years  after  the  death  of  his  first  wife,  he  married 
a  cousin,  Bianca  Trissino,  by  whom  he  had  another 
son,  Giro.  Giulio  was  sickly,  and  had  taken  to  the 
ecclesiastical  career.  His  father's  preference  for  Giro 
was  decided,  and  he  openly  expressed  it.  That  Bianca 
was  not  entirely  responsible  for  the  ensuing  quarrel,  is 
certain  from  the  fact  that  Trissino  separated  from  this 
second  wife  in  i535.  But  it  appears  that  Giulio 
opened  hostilities  by  behaving  with  brutal  rudeness  to 
his  stepmother.  Trissino  refused  to  receive  him,  and 
cut  off  his  allowance.  Giulio  then  went  to  law  with  his 
father.  A  hollow  peace  was  patched  up,  and,  after 
Bianca's  death  in  1640,  Giulio  was  appointed  steward 
of  the  family  estates.  His  management  of  Trissino's 
property  led  to  new  disputes,  and  new  acts  of  violence. 
On  one  occasion  the  son  broke  into  his  father's  palace 
at  Vicenza,  and  tried  to  turn  him  by  armed  force  into 
the  streets  upon  a  bitter  night  of  Christmas.  Mean- 

'  Op.  cit.  p.  366. 


304  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

while  fresh  lawsuits  were  on  foot,  and  Giulio's  cause 
triumphed  in  the  courts  of  Venice,  whither  the  case 
had  been  removed  on  appeal  from  Vicenza.  Infuriated 
by  what  he  deemed  a  maladministration  of  justice,  the 
old  poet  hurled  sonnets  and  invectives  against  both 
cities,  execrating  their  infamy  in  the  strongest  verse 
he  ever  penned.1  But  he  could  not  gain  redress 
against  the  son  he  hated.  At  the  age  of  seventy-two, 
in  the  midst  of  these  private  troubles,  Trissino  under- 
took his  last  journey  to  Rome.  There  he  died  in 
i55o,  and  was  buried  near  John  Lascaris  in  the 
church  of  S.  Agata  in  Suburra. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  crimes  of  Giulio 
against  his  father,  Trissino  used  a  cruel  and  unpardon- 
able revenge  upon  his  eldest  son.  Not  content  with 
blackening  his  character  under  the  name  of  Agrilupo 
in  the  Italia  Liberata?  he  wrote  a  codicil  to  his  will,  in 
which  he  brought  against  Giulio  the  most  dangerous 
charge  it  was  then  possible  to  make.  He  disinherited 
him  with  a  curse,  and  accused  him  of  Lutheran  heresy.3 
It  was  clearly  the  father's  intention  to  hand  his  son 
down  to  an  immortality  of  shame  in  his  great  poem, 
to  ruin  him  in  his  temporal  affairs,  and  to  deprive  him 
of  his  ecclesiastical  privileges.  Posterity  has  defeated 
his  first  purpose;  for  few  indeed  are  the  readers  of 
Trissino's  Italia  Liberata.  In  his  second  and  his  third 
objects,  he  was  completely  successful.  Giulio  was 
prosecuted  for  heresy  in  t55i,  cited  before  the  Inquisi- 
tion of  Bologna  in  i553,  excommunicated  by  the 
Roman  Holy  Office  in  i554,  condemned  as  a  contu- 
macious heretic  in  1 556,  driven  into  hiding  at  Venice, 

i  Op.  cit.  p.  385.  »  Ibid.  p.  413.  s  ibid.  p.  414. 


A    DOMESTIC    TRAGEDY.  305 

attacked  in  bed  and  half  murdered  there  in  i568,  and 
finally  thrown  into  prison  in  1673.  He  died  in  prison 
in  1676,  without  having  shown  any  signs  of  repentance, 
a  martyr  to  his  Lutheran  opinions.1  Ciro  Trissino, 
the  third  actor  in  this  domestic  tragedy,  had  already 
been  strangled  in  his  villa  at  Comedo  in  the  year 


Trissino's  literary  labors  bring  us  back  to  the 
specific  subject  of  this  chapter.  He  made  it  the  aim  of 
his  life  to  apply  the  methods  of  the  ancients  to  the 
practice  of  Italian  poetry,  and  to  settle  the  vexed  ques- 
tions of  the  language  on  rational  principles.  Conscious 
of  the  novelty  and  ambitious  nature  of  his  designs,  he 
adopted  the  Golden  Fleece  of  Jason  for  an  emblem, 
signifying  that  his  voyages  in  literature  led  far  beyond 
the  ordinary  track,  with  an  inestimable  prize  in  view.2 
Had  his  genius  been  equal  to  his  enterprise,  he  might 
have  effected  a  decisive  revolution.  But  Trissino  was 
a  man  of  sterling  parts  and  sound  judgment  rather  than 
a  poet:  a  formulator  of  rules  and  precepts  rather  than  a 
creator.  His  bent  of  mind  was  critical;  and  in  this 
field  he  owed  his  success  more  to  coincidence  with  pre- 
valent opinion  than  to  originality.  Though  he  fixed 
the  type  of  Italian  tragedy  by  his  Sofomsba,  and  tied 
comedy  down  to  Latin  models  by  his  Simillimi,  we 
cannot  rate  his  talents  as  a  playwright  very  high.  The 

>  The  whole  of  this  extraordinary  sequel  to  Trissino's  biography  will 
be  read  with  interest  in  the  last  chapter  of  Signor  Morsolin's  monograph. 
It  leaves  upon  my  mind  the  impression  that  Giulio,  though  unpardona- 
bly  ill-tempered,  and  possibly  as  ill-conducted  in  his  private  life  as  his 
foes  asserted,  was  the  victim  of  an  almost  diabolical  persecution. 

*  See  Morsolin,  op.  cit.,  p.  197.  This  device  was  imprinted  as  early 
as  1529,  upon  the  books  published  for  Trissino  at  Verona  by  Janicolo 
of  Brescia. 


306  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Poetica,  in  which  he  reduced  Horace  and  Aristotle  to 
Italian  prose,  and  laid  down  laws  for  adapting  modern 
literature  to  antique  system,  had  a  wide  and  lasting  in- 
fluence.1 We  may  trace  the  canon  of  dramatic  unities, 
which  through  Italian  determined  French  practice,  up 
to  this  source:  but  had  not  Trissino's  precepts  been 
concordant  with  the  tendencies  of  his  age,  it  is  probable 
that  even  this  treatise  would  have  carried  little  weight. 
When  he  attempted  to  reform  Italian  orthography  on 
similar  principles,  he  met  with  derision  and  resistance.2 
The  world  was  bent  on  aping  the  classics;  it  did  not 
care  about  adopting  the  Greek  Kappa,  Zeta,  Phi,  etc. 
Trissino  intervened  with  more  effect  in  the  dispute  on 
language.  He  pleaded  that  the  vernacular,  being  the 
common  property  of  the  whole  nation,  should  be  called 
Italian  and  cultivated  with  a  wise  tolerance  of  local 
diction.  Having  discovered  a  copy  of  Dante's  De 
Eloquio,  he  communicated  this  treatise  to  the  learned 
world  in  support  of  his  own  views,  and  had  a  transla- 
tion of  it  printed.3  This  publication  embittered  the 
strife  which  was  then  raging.  Some  .  Florentine 
scholars,  led  by  Martelli,  impugned  its  genuineness. 
But  the  De  Eloquio  survived  antagonistic  criticism,  and 
opened  a  new  stage  in  the  discussion. 

In  his  attempt  to  add  the  heroic  species  of  the  epic 
to  Italian  literature,  Trissino  was  even  less  successful 
than  in  his  dramatic  experiments.  Disgusted  with 

>  The  Poetica  was  printed  in  1529;  but  it  had  been  composed  some 
years  earlier. 

»  His  grammatical  and  orthographical  treatises  were  published  under 
the  titles  of  Epistola  a  Clemente  VII.,  Grammatichetta,  Dialogo  Castel- 
lano,  Dubbi  Grammaticali.  Firenzuola  made  Trissino's  new  letters  fa- 
mous and  ridiculous  by  the  burlesque  sonnets  he  wrote  upon  them. 

»  Vicenza,  Tolomeo  Janicolo,  1529. 


THEORIES;    ITALIA    LIBERATA,  307 

Ariosto's  success  in  what  he  regarded  as  a  barbarous 
style  of  art,  he  set  himself  to  make  an  epic  on  the 
model  of  Homer,  with  scrupulous  obedience  to  Aris- 
totle's rules.  For  his  subject  he  chose  an  episode 
from  Italian  history,  and  used  blank  verse  instead  of 
the  attractive  octave  stanza.  The  Italia  Liberata  cost 
its  author  twenty  years  of  labor.1  It  was  a  master- 
piece of  erudition,  displaying  profound  acquaintance 
with  Roman  tactics,  and  a  competent  knowledge  of 
Roman  topography.  But  in  spite  of  its  characters 
plaques  upon  those  of  the  Iliad,  in  spite  of  its  learnedly- 
constructed  episodes,  in  spite  of  its  fidelity  to  Aristotle, 
the  Italia  Liberata  was  not  a  poem.  The  good  sense 
of  the  nation  refused  it.  Tasso  returned  to  the 
romantic  method  and  the  meretricious  charms  of  the 
ottava  rima.  Only  Gravina  among  critics  spoke  a 
good  word  for  it.  The  subject  lacked  real  grandeur. 
Italy  delivered  from  the  Goths,  was  only  Italy  delivered 
to  the  Lombards.  The  unity  of  the  poem  was  not  the 
unity  of  an  epic,  but  of  a  chapter  from  a  medieval 
Chronicle.  The  machinery  of  angels,  travestied  with 
classic  titles,  was  ridiculous.  The  Norcian  Sibyl,  intro- 
duced in  rivalry  with  Virgil's  Sibyl  of  Avernus,  was  out 
of  place.  And  though  Trissino  expunged  what  made 
the  old  romantic  poems  charming,  he  retained  their 
faults.  Intricate  underplots  and  flatteries  of  noble 
families  were  consistent  with  a  species  which  had  its 
origin  in  feudal  minstrelsy.  They  were  wholly  out  of 
character  with  a  professed  transcription  from  the  Greek. 

i  Nine  books  were  first  printed  at  Rome  in  1547  by  Valerio  and  Luigi 
Dorici.  The  whole,  consisting  of  twenty-seven  books,  was  published 
at  Venice  in  1548  by  Tolomeo  Janicolo  of  Brescia.  This  Janicolo  was 
Trissino's  favorite  publisher. 


308  RENAISSANCE    IN  ITALY. 

Neither  style  nor  meter  rose  to  the  heroic  level.  The 
blank  verse  was  pedestrian  and  prolix.  The  language 
was  charged  with  Lombardisms.  Thus  the  Italia 
Liberata  proved  at  all  points  that  Trissino  could  make 
rules,  but  that  he  could  not  apply  them  to  any  purpose. 
It  is  curious  to  compare  his  failure  with  Milton's 
success  in  a  not  entirely  dissimilar  endeavor.  The 
poet  achieves  a  triumph  where  the  pedant  only  suffers 
a  defeat ;  and  yet  the  aim  of  both  was  almost  identical. 
So  different  is  genius  guided  by  principles  from  the 
mechanical  carpentry  of  imitative  talent. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

BURLESQUE   POETRY    AND    SATIRE. 

Relation  of  Satiric  to  Serious  Literature — Italy  has  more  Parody  and  Cari- 
cature than  Satire  or  Comedy — Life  of  Folengo — His  Orlandino — 
Critique  of  Previous  Romances — Lutheran  Doctrines — Orlando's  Boy- 
hood— Griffarosto — Invective  against  Friars — Maccaronic  Poetry — 
The  Travestyof  Humanism — Pedantesque  Poetry — Glottogrysio  Ludi- 
magistro — Tifi  Odassi  of  Padua — The  Pedant  Vigonga — Evangelista 
Fossa — Giorgio  Alione — Folengo  employs  the  Maccaronic  Style  for 
an  Epic — His  Address  to  the  Muses — His  Hero  Baldus — Boyhood  and 
Youth — Cingar — The  Travels  of  the  Barons — Gulfora — Witchcraft  in 
Italy — Folengo's  Conception  of  Witchcraft — Entrance  into  Hell — The 
Zany  and  the  Pumpkin — Nature  of  Folengo's  Satire — His  Relation  to 
Rabelais — TheMoscAeis — The  Zanitonella — Maccaronic  Poetry  was 
Lombard — Another  and  Tuscan  Type  of  Burlesque — Capitoli — Their 
Popular  Growth — Berni — His  Life — His  Mysterious  Death — His  Char- 
acter and  Style — Three  Classes  of  Capitoli — The  pure  Bernesque 
Manner — Berni's  Imitators — The  Indecency  of  this  Burlesque — Such 
Humor  was  Indigenous — Terza  Rima — Berni's  Satires  on  Adrian  VI. 
and  Clement  VII. — His  Caricatures — His  Sonnet  on  Aretino — The 
Rifacimento  of  Boiardo's  Orlando — The  Mystery  of  its  Publica- 
tion— Albicante  and  Aretino — The  Publishers  Giunta  and  Calvi — 
Berni's  Protestant  Opinions— Eighteen  Stanzas  of  the  Rifacimento 
printed  by  Vergerio — Hypothesis  respecting  the  Mutilation  of  the 
Rifacimento — Satire  in  Italy. 

IN  all  classical  epochs  of  literature  comedy  and  satire 
have  presented  their  antithesis  to  ideal  poetry,  by 
setting  the  actual  against  the  imagined  world,  or  by 
travestying  the  forms  of  serious  art.  Thus  the 
Titanic  farce  of  Aristophanes  was  counterposed  to 
/Eschylean  tragedy;  and  Moliere  portrayed  men  as 
they  are,  before  an  audience  which  welcomed  Racine's 
pictures  of  men  as  the  age  conceived  they  ought  to  be. 


310  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

It  is  the  mark  of  really  great  literature  when  both 
thesis  and  antithesis,  the  aspiration  after  the  ideal  and 
the  critique  of  actual  existence,  exhibit  an  equality  of 
scale.  The  comic  and  satiric  species  of  poetry  attain 
to  grandeur  only  by  contact  with  impassioned  art  of  a 
high  quality,  or  else  by  contrast  with  a  natural  great- 
ness in  the  nation  that  produces  them.  Both  mask 
and  anti-mask  reveal  the  mental  stature  of  the  people. 
Both  issue  from  the  conscience  of  society,  and  bear 
its  impress. 

If  so  much  be  admitted,  we  can  easily  understand 
why  burlesque  poetry  formed  the  inevitable  pendent 
to  polite  literature  in  Italy.  There  was  no  national 
tragedy;  therefore  there  could  be  no  great  comedy. 
The  best  work  of  the  age,  typified  by  Ariosto's  epic, 
was  so  steeped  in  irony  that  it  offered  no  vantage- 
ground  for  humorous  counterpoise.  There  was  noth- 
ing left  but  to  exaggerate  its  salient  qualities,  and 
to  caricature  its  form.  Such  exaggeration  was  bur- 
lesque; such  caricature  was  parody.  In  like  manner, 
satire  found  no  adequate  sphere.  The  nation's  life 
was  not  on  so  grand  a  scale  as  to  evolve  the  elements 
of  satire  from  the  contrast  between  faculties  and  foibles. 
Nor  again  could  a  society,  corrupt  and  satisfied  with 
corruption,  anxious  to  live  and  let  live,  apply  the  lash 
with  earnestness  to  its  own  shoulders.  Facit  indignatio 
versus,  was  Juvenal's  motto;  and  indignation  tore  the 
heart  of  Swift.  But  in  Italy  there  was  no  indignation. 
All  men  were  agreed  to  tolerate,  condone,  and  com- 
promise. When  vices  come  to  be  laughingly  admitted, 
when  discords  between  practice  and  profession  furnish 
themes  for  tales  and  epigrams,  the  moral  conscience  is 


BURLESQUE   AND   PARODY.  311 

extinct.  But  without  an  appeal  to  conscience  the 
satirist  has  no  locus  standi.  Therefore,  in  Italy  there 
was  no  great  satire,  as  in  Italy  there  was  no  great 
comedy. 

The  burlesque  rhymsters  portrayed  their  own  and 
their  neighbors'  immorality  with  self-complacent  hu- 
mor, calling  upon  the  public  to  make  merry  over 
the  spectacle.  This  poetry,  obscene,  equivocal,  frivo- 
lous, horribly  sincere,  supplied  a  natural  antithesis  to 
the  pseudo-platonic,  pedantic,  artificial  mannerism  of 
the  purists.  In  point  of  intrinsic  value,  there  is  not 
much  to  choose  between  the  Petrarchistic  and  the 
burlesque  styles.  Many  burlesque  poets  piqued  them- 
selves with  justice  on  their  elegance,  and  clothed 
gross  thoughts  in  diction  of  elaborate  polish.  Mean- 
while they  laid  the  affectations,  conventions  and  ideals 
of  the  age  impartially  under  contribution.  The  son- 
neteers suggested  parodies  to  Aretino,  who  celebrated 
vice  and  deformity  in  women  with  hyperboles  adapted 
from  the  sentimental  school.1  The  age  of  gold  was 
ridiculed  by  Romolo  Bertini.2  The  idyl  found  its 
travesty  in  Berni's  pictures  of  crude  village  loves  and 
in  Folengo's  Zanitonella.  Chivalry  became  absurd  by 
the  simple  process  of  enforcing  the  prosaic  elements  in 
Ariosto,  reducing  his  heroes  to  the  level  of  plebeian 
life,  and  exaggerating  the  extravagance  of  his  ro- 
mance. The  ironical  smile  which  played  upon  his  lips, 
expands  into  broad  grins  and  horse-laughter.  Yet, 
though  the  burlesque  poets  turned  everything  they 
touched  into  ridicule,  these  buffoons  were  not  unfre- 

>  See  the  Madrigals  in  Opere  Burhsche,  vol.  iii.  pp.  36~38. 
*  Ibid.  p.  290. 


31  a  RENAISSANCE    IN  ITALY. 

quently  possessed  of  excellent  good  sense.  Not  a  few 
of  them,  as  we  shall  see,  were  among  the  freest  thinkers 
of  their  age.  Like  Court  jesters  they  dared  to  utter 
truths  which  would  have  sent  a  serious  writer  to  the 
stake.  Lucidity  of  intellectual  vision  was  granted  at 
this  time  in  Italy  to  none  but  positive  and  materialistic 
thinkers — to  analysts  like  Machiavelli  and  Pomponazzi, 
critics  like  Pietro  Aretino,  poets  with  feet  firmly  planted 
on  the  earth  like  Berni  and  Folengo.  The  two  last- 
named  artists  in  the  burlesque  style  may  be  selected 
as  the  leaders  of  two  different  but  cognate  schools,  the 
one  flourishing  in  Lombardy,  the  other  in  Florence. 

Girolamo  Folengo  was  born  in  1491  of  noble 
parents  at  Cipada,  a  village  of  the  Mantuan  district. 
He  made  his  first  studies  under  his  father's  roof,  and 
in  due  time  proceeded  to  Bologna.  Here  he  attended 
the  lectures  of  Pomponazzi,  and  threw  himself  with 
ardor  into  the  pleasures  and  perils  of  the  academical 
career.  Francesco  Gonzaga,  a  fantastical  and  high- 
spirited  libertine  from  Mantua,  was  the  recognized 
leader  of  the  students  at  that  moment.  Duels,  chal- 
lenges, intrigues  and  street-quarrels  formed  the  staple 
of  their  life.  It  was  an  exciting  and  romantic  round 
of  gayety  and  danger,  of  which  the  novelists  have  left 
us  many  an  animated  picture.  Folengo  by  his  extrava- 
gant conduct  soon  exhausted  the  easy  patience  of  the 
university  authorities.  He  was  obliged  to  quit 
Bologna,  and  his  father  refused  to  receive  him.  In 
this  emergency  he  took  refuge  in  a  Benedictine  con- 
vent at  Brescia.  When  he  made  himself  a  monk, 
Folengo  changed  his  Christian  name  to  Teofilo,  by 
which  he  is  now  best  known  in  literature.  But  he  did 


FOLENGO' S   LIFE. 


3'3 


not  long  endure  the  confinement  of  a  cloister.  After 
six  years  spent  among  the  Benedictines,  he  threw  the 
cowl  aside,  and  ran  off  with  a  woman,  Girolama  Dieda, 
for  whom  he  had  conceived  an  insane  passion.1  This 
was  in  the  year  i5i5.  During  the  next  eleven  years 
he  gave  himself  to  the  composition  of  burlesque  poe- 
try. His  Maccaronea  appeared  at  Venice  in  1619, 
and  his  Orlandino  in  i526.  The  former  was  pub- 
lished under  the  pseudonym  of  Merlinus  Cocaius, 
compounded  of  a  slang  word  in  the  Mantuan  dialect, 
and  of  the  famous  wizard's  title  of  romance.2  The 
latter  bore  the  nom  de  plume  of  Limerno  Pitocco — an 
anagram  of  Merlino,  with  the  addition  of  an  epithet 
pointing  to  the  poet's  indigence.  These  works  brought 
Folengo  fame  but  little  wealth,  and  he  was  fain  to  re- 
turn at  last  to  his  old  refuge.3  Resuming  the  cowl,  he 
now  retired  to  a  monastery  in  the  kingdom  of  Naples, 
visited  Sicily,  and  died  at  last  near  Padua,  in  the  con- 
vent of  S.  Croce  di  Campese.  This  was  in  1 644.  The 
last  years  of  his  life  had  been  devoted  to  religious  poe- 
try, which  is  not  read  with  the  same  curiosity  as  his 
burlesque  productions. 

i  In  Mac.  xx.  (p.  152  of  Mantuan  edition,  1771),  he  darkly  alludes  to 
this  episode  of  his  early  life,  where  he  makes  an  exposed  witch  exclaim: 
Nocentina  vocor  magicis  tarn  dedita  chartis, 
Decepique  mea  juvenem  cum  fraude  Folengum. 

«  I  cannot  find  sufficient  authority  for  the  story  of  Folengo 's  having 
had  a  grammar-master  named  Cocaius,  from  whom  he  borrowed  part 
of  his  pseudonym.  The  explanation  given  by  his  Mantuan  editor,  which 
I  have  adopted  in  the  text,  seems  the  more  probable.  Cocaj  in  Mantuan 
dialect  means  a  cork  for  a  bottle;  and  the  phrase  ch'  alfd  di  cocaj  is 
used  to  indicate  some  extravagant  absurdity  or  blunder. 

3  There  seems  good  reason,  from  many  passages  in  his  Maccaronea, 
to  believe  that  his  repentance  was  sincere.  I  may  here  take  occasion  to 
remark  that,  though  his  poems  are  gross  in  the  extreme,  their  moral  tone 
is  not  unhealthy.  He  never  makes  obscenity  or  vice  attractive. 


3 14  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Teofilo  Folengo,  or  Merlinus  Cocaius,  or  Limerno 
Pitocco,  was,  when  he  wrote  his  burlesque  poems, 
what  the  French  would  call  a  declasse.  He  had  com- 
promised his  character  in  early  youth  and  had  been 
refused  the  shelter  of  his  father's  home.  He  had  taken 
monastic  vows  in  a  moment  of  pique,  or  with  the  baser 
object  of  getting  daily  bread  in  idleness.  His  elope- 
ment from  the  convent  with  a  paramour  had  brought 
scandal  on  religion.  Each  of  these  steps  contri- 
buted to  place  him  beyond  the  pale  of  respectability. 
Driven  to  bay  and  forced  to  earn  his  living,  he  now 
turned  round  upon  society;  and  spoke  his  mind  out 
with  a  freedom  born  of  bile  and  cynical  indifference. 
If  he  had  learned  nothing  else  at  Bologna,  he  had  im- 
bibed the  materialistic  philosophy  of  Pomponazzi  to- 
gether with  Gonzaga's  lessons  in  libertinage.  Brutal- 
ized, degraded  in  his  own  eyes,  rejected  by  the  world 
of  honest  or  decorous  citizens,  but  with  a  keen  sense 
of  the  follies,  vices  and  hypocrisies  of  his  age,  he 
resolved  to  retaliate  by  a  work  of  art  that  should 
attract  attention  and  force  the  public  to  listen  to  his 
comments  on  their  shame.  In  his  humorous  poetry 
there  is,  therefore,  a  deliberate  if  not  a  very  dignified 
intention.  He  does  not  merely  laugh,  but  mixes  satire 
with  ribaldry,  and  points  buffoonery  with  biting  sar- 
casm. Since  the  burlesque  style  had  by  its  nature  to 
be  parasitical  and  needed  an  external  motive,  Folengo 
chose  for  the  subject  of-  his  parody  the  romance  of 
Orlando,  which  was  fashionable  to  the  point  of  ex- 
travagance in  Italy  after  the  appearance  of  the  Furioso. 
But  he  was  not  satisfied  with  turning  a  tale  of  Paladins 
to  ridicule.  He  used  it  as  the  shield  behind  which  he 


BURLESQUE    OF   ORLANDO.  315 

knew  that  he  might  safely  shoot  his  arrows  at  the 
clergy  and  the  princes  of  his  native  land,  attack  the 
fortresses  of  orthodoxy,  and  vent  his  spleen  upon  so- 
ciety by  dragging  its  depraved  ideals  in  the  mire  of 
his  own  powerful  but  vulgar  scorn. 

Folengo  has  told  us  that  the  Orlandino  was  con- 
ceived and  written  before  the  Maccaronea,  though  it 
was  published  some  years  later.  It  is  probable  that 
the  rude  form  and  plebeian  language  of  this  burlesque 
romance  found  but  little  favor  with  a  public  educated 
in  the  niceties  of  style.  They  were  ready  to  accept 
the  bastard  Latin  dialect  invented  for  his  second 
venture,  because  it  offended  no  puristic  sensibilities. 
But  the  coarse  Italian  of  the  Orlandino  could  not  be 
relished  by  academicians,  who  had  been  pampered  with 
the  refinements  of  Berni's  wanton  Muse.1  Only  eight 
cantos  appeared ;  noi»  is  there  reason  to  suppose 
that  any  more  were  written,  for  it  may  be  assumed 
that  the  fragment  had  fulfilled  its  author's  purpose.2 
That  purpose  was  to  satirize  the  vice,  hypocrisy  and 
superstition  of  the  clergy,  and  more  particularly  of  the 
begging  friars.  In  form  the  Orlandino  pretends  to  be 

i  Part  of  Folengo's  satire  is  directed  against  the  purists.  See  Canto 
i.  7-9.  He  confesses  himself  a  Lombard,  and  shrugs  his  shoulders  at 
their  solemn  criticisms: 

Non  perb,  se  non  nacqui  Tosco,  i'  piango; 

Che  ancora  il  ciacco  gode  nel  suo  fango. 

To  the  reproach  of  "turnip-eating  Lombard  "  he  retorts,  "  Tuscan  chat- 
terbox." Compare  vi.  I,  •z,  on  his  own  style: 

Oscuri  sensi  ed  affettate  rime, 

Qual'  e  chi  dica  mai  compor  Limerno  ? 
*  The  first  line  of  the'elegy  placed  upon  the  edition  of  1526  runs  thus: 

Mensibus  istud  opus  tribus  indignatio  fecit. 

Folengo  claims  for  himself  a  satiric  purpose.  The  edition  used  by  me 
is  Molini's,  Londra,  1775. 


316  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

a  romance  of  chivalry,  and  it  bears  the  same  relation 
to  the  Orlando  of  Boiardo  and  Ariosto  as  the  Secchia 
Rapita  to  the  heroic  poems  of  Tasso's  school.  It 
begins  with  a  burlesque  invocation  to  Federigo  Gon- 
zaga,  Marquis  of  Mantua,  in  which  the  poet  bluntly 
describes  his  poverty  and  begs  for  largess.  Then 
Folengo  passes  to  an  account  of  his  authorities  and  to 
the  criticism  of  his  predecessors  in  romantic  poetry. 
He  had  recourse,  he  says,  to  a  witch  of  Val  Camonica, 
who  mounted  him  upon  a  ram,  and  bore  him  to  the 
country  of  the  Goths.  There  he  found  forty  decades 
of  Turpin's  history  among  the  rubbish  of  old  books 
stolen  from  Italy.  Of  these,  three  decades  had  al- 
ready been  discovered  and  translated  by  Boiardo ;  but, 
after  versifying  a  large  portion  of  the  second,  the  poet 
left  the  rest  of  it  to  Ariosto.  The  sixth  was  stolen 
from  him  by  Francesco  Bello.  'The  last  he  gave  with 
his  own  hands  to  Poliziano,  who  put  it  into  rhyme  and 
allowed  Pulci  to  have  the  credit  of  his  labors.1 
Folengo  himself  took  a  portion  of  the  first  decade,  and 
thus  obtained  material  for  treating  of  the  birth  and 
boyhood  of  Orlando.  This  exordium  is  chiefly  valu- 
able as  a  piece  of  contemporary  criticism : 

Queste  tre  Deche  dunque  sin  qua  trovo 
Esser  dal  fonte  di  Turpin  cavate; 
Ma  Trebisonda,  Ancroia,  Spagna,  e  Bovo 
Coll'  altro  resto  al  foco  sian  donate: 
Apocrife  son  tutte,  e  le  riprovo 
Come  nemiche  d'^ogni  veritate; 
Boiardo,  1'  Ariosto,  Pulci,  e  '1  Cieco 
Autenticati  sono,  ed  io  con  seco. 

If  we  may  accept  this  stanza  as  expressing  the  opinion 

i  See  above  Part  i.  p.  455,  for  the  belief  that  Poliziano  was  the  real 
author  of  the  Morgante  Maggiore. 


THE    ORLANDINO.  ^17 

of 'Italians  in  the  sixteenth  century  relative  to  their 
romantic  poets,  we  find  that  it  almost  exactly  agrees 
with  that  of  posterity.  Only  the  Mambriano  of  Bello 
has  failed  to  maintain  its  place  beside  the  Morgante 
and  Orlando. 

Embarking  upon  the  subject  of  his  tale,  Folengo 
describes  the  Court  of  Charlemagne,  and  passes  the 
Paladins  in  review,  intermingling  comic  touches  with 
exaggerated  imitations  of  the  romantic  style.  The 
peers  of  France  preserve  their  well-known  features 
through  the  distorting  medium  of  caricature;  while 
humorous  couplets,  detonating  here  and  there  like 
crackers,  break  the  mock-heroical  monotony.  Gano, 
for  example,  is  still  the  arch-traitor  of  the  tribe  of  Judas: 

Figliuol  non  d'  uomo,  ne  da  Dio  create, 
Ma  il  gran  Diavol  ebbelo  cacato. 

The  effect  of  parody  is  thus  obtained  by  emphasizing 
the  style  of  elder  poets  and  suddenly  breaking  off  into 
a  different  vein.  Next  comes  the  description  of 
Berta's  passion  for  Milone,  with  a  singularly  coarse 
and  out-spoken  invective  against  love.1  Meanwhile 
Charlemagne  has  proclaimed  a  tournament.  The  peers 
array  themselves,  and  the  Court  is  in  a  state  of 
feverish  expectation.  Parturiunt  monies:  instead  of 
mailed  warriors  careering  upon  fiery  chargers,  the 
knights  crawl  into  the  lists  on  limping  mules  and  lean 

>  Canto  i.  64,  65;  ii.  1-4: 

Ed  io  dico  ch'  Amor  e  un  bardassola 

Piu  che  sua  madre  non  fu  mai  puttana,  etc. 

Folengo,  of  course,  has  a  mistress,  to  whom  he  turns  at  the  proper  mo- 
ments of  his  narrative.  This  mia  diva  Caritunga  is  a  caricature  of  the 
fashionable  Laura.  See  v.  I,  2: 

O  donna  mia,  ch'  hai  gli  occhi,  ch'  hai  1'  orecchie, 

Quelli  di  pipistrel,  queste  di  bracco,  etc. 


318  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

asses,  with  a  ludicrous  array  of  kitchen-gear  for  armor. 
The  description  of  this  donkey-tournament,  is  one  of 
Folengo's  triumphs.1  When  Milone  comes  upon  the 
scene  and  jousts  beneath  his  lady's  balcony,  the  style  is 
heightened  to  the  tone  of  true  romance,  and,  but  for  the 
roughness  of  the  language,  we  might  fancy  that  a  page 
of  the  Orlando  were  beneath  our  eyes.  A  banquet 
follows,  after  which  we  are  regaled  with  a  Court-ball, 
and  then  ensues  the  comic  chain  of  incidents  which 
bring  Milone  and  Berta  to  the  fruition  of  their  love. 
They  elope,  take  ship,  and  are  separated  by  a  series 
of  mishaps  upon  the  open  sea.  Berta  is  cast  ashore 
alone  in  Italy,  and  begs  her  way  to  Sutri,  where 
she  gives  birth  to  Orlando  in  a  shepherd's  cabin.' 
During  the  course  of  these  adventures,  Folengo  diverts 
his  readers  with  many  brilliant  passages  and  bits  of 
satire,  at  one  time  inveighing  against  the  license  of 
balls,  at  another  describing  the  mixed  company  on 
board  a  ship  of  passage;  now  breaking  off  into  bur- 
lesque pedigrees,  and  then  again  putting  into  Berta's 
mouth  a  string  of  Lutheran  opinions.  Though  the 
personages  are  romantic,  the  incidents  are  copied  with 
realistic  fidelity  from  actual  life.  We  are  moving 
among  Italian  bourgeois  in  the  masquerade  of  heroes 
and  princesses. 

Berta's  prayer  when  she  found  herself  alone  upon 
the  waters  in  an  open  boat,  is  so  characteristic  of 
Folengo's  serious  intention  that  it  deserves  more  than 
a  passing  comment.2  She  addresses  herself  to  God 
instead  of  to  any  Saints: 

1  Canto  ii.  9-42. 

8  Canto  vi.  40-46.    I  have  placed  a  translation  of  this  passage  in  an 
Appendix  to  this  chapter. 


BERT  AS   PRAYER.  319 

A  te  ricorro,  non  a  Piero,  o  Andrea, 
Che  1'  altrui  mezzo  non  mi  fa  mestiero: 
Ben  tengo  a  mente  che  la  Cananea 
Non  supplicb  ne  a  Giacomo  ne  a  Piero. 

It  is  the  hypocrisy  of  friars,  Folengo  says,  who  sacri- 
fice to  Moloch,  while  they  use  the  name  of  Mary  to 
cloak  their  crimes — it  is  this  damnable  hypocrisy  which 
has  blinded  simple  folk  into  trusting  the  invocation  of 
Saints.  Avarice  is  the  motive  of  these  false  priests: 
and  lust  moves  them  to  preach  the  duty  of  confession: 

E  qui  trovo  ben  spesso  un  Confessore 
Essere  piu  ruffiano  che  Dottore. 

Therefore,  cries  Berta,  I  make  my  confession  to  God 
alone  and  from  Him  seek  salvation,  and  vow  that,  if  I 
escape  the  fury  of  the  sea,  I  will  no  more  lend  belief 
to  men  who  sell  indulgences  for  gold.  So  far  the  poet 
is  apparently  sincere.  In  the  next  stanza  he  resumes 
his  comic  vein: 

Cotal  preghiere  carche  d'  eresia 
Berta  facea,  merce.ch"  era  Tedesca; 
Perche  in  quel  tempo  la  Teologia 
Era  fatta  Romana  e  fiandresca; 
Ma  dubito  ch'  alfin  nella  Turchia 
Si  troverk  vivendo  alia  Moresca; 
Perche  di  Cristo  1'  inconsutil  vesta 
Squarciata  e  si  che  piu  non  ve  ne  resta. 

The  blending  of  buffoonery  and  earnestness  in  Fo- 
lengo's  style  might  be  illustrated  by  the  bizarre  myth 
of  the  making  of  peasants,  where  he  introduces  Christ 
and  the  Apostles l : 

Transibat  Jesus  per  un  gran  villaggio 
Con  Pietro,  Andrea,  Giovanni,  e  con  Taddeo; 
Trovan  ch'  un  asinello  in  sul  rivaggio 
Molte  pallotte  del  suo  stereo  feo. 

'  Canto  v.  56-58.     The  contempt  for  country  folk  seems  unaffected. 


320  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Disse  allor  Piero  al  suo  Maestro  saggio: 
En,  Dominetfac  homines  ex  eo. 
Surge,  Villane,  disse  Cristo  allora; 
E  "1  villan  di  que*  stronzi  salto  fora. 

His  fantastic  humor,  half-serious,  half- flippant,  spares 
nothing  sacred  or  profane.  Even  the  Last  Judgment 
receives  an  inconceivably  droll  treatment  on  the  slender 
occasion  of  an  allusion  to  the  disasters  of  Milan.1 
Folengo  has  just  been  saying  that  Italy  well  deserves 
her  title  of  barbarorum  sepultura? 

Che  veratnente  in  quell"  orribil  giorno 
Che  in  Giosafatto  suonerk  la  tromba, 
Facendosi  sentire  al  mondo  intorno, 
E  i  morti  salteran  fuor  d'  ogni  tomba, 
Non  sara  pozzo,  cacatojo,  o  forno, 
Che  mentre  il  tararan  del  ciel  ribomba, 
Non  getti  fuora  Svizzeri,  Francesi, 
Tedeschi,  Ispani,  e  d'  altri  assai  paesi; 

1  Canto  vi.  55-57.  This  passage  is  a  caricature  of  Pulci's  burlesque 
description  of  the  Last  Day.  See  above  Part  i.  p.  449.  Folengo 's  loath- 
ing of  the  strangers  who  devoured  Italy  is  clear  here,  as  also  in  i.  43,  ii. 
4.,  59.  But  there  is  no  force  in  his  invectives  or  laments. 

L'  Italia  non  piu  Italia  appello, 

Ma  d'  ogni  strana  gente  un  bel  bordello. 

Che  '1  cancaro  mangiasse  il  Taliano, 
II  quale,  o  ricco,  o  povero  che  sia, 
Desidra  in  nostre  stanze  il  Tramontano. 


Ch6  se  non  fosser  le  gran  parti  in  quella, 
Dominerebbe  il  mondo  Italia  bella. 

For  verily  on  that  most  dreadful  day, 
When  in  the  Valley jof  Jehosaphat 
The  trump  shall  sound,  and  thrill  this  globe  of  clay, 
And  dead  folk  shuddering  leave  their  tombs  thereat, 
No  well,  sewer,  privy  shall  be  found,  I  say, 
Which,  while  the  angels  roar  their  rat-tat-tat, 
Shall  not  disgorge  its  Spaniards,  Frenchmen,  Swiss, 
Germans,  and  rogues  of  every  race  that  is. 


FOLENGO^S   HUMOR. 


321 


E  vederassi  una  mirabil  guerra, 
Fra  loro  combattendo  gli  ossi  suoi: 
Chi  un  braccio,  chi  una  man,  chi  un  piede  afferra; 
Ma  vien  chi  dice — questi  non  son  tuoi — 
Anzi  son  miei — non  sono;  e  sulla  terra 
Molti  di  loro  avran  gambe  di  buoi, 
Teste  di  muli,  e  d'  asini  le  schiene, 
Siccome  all'  opre  di  ciascun  conviene. 

The  birth  of  Orlando  gives  occasion  for  a  mock-heroic 
passage,  in  which  Pulci  is  parodied  to  the  letter.1  All  the 
more  amusing  for  the  assumption  of  the  pompous  style, 
is  the  ensuing  account  of  the  hero's  boyhood  among 
the  street-urchins  of  Sutri.  When  he  is  tall  enough  to 
bestride  a  broomstick,  Orlandino  proves  his  valor  by 
careering  through  the  town  and  laughing  at  the  falls  he 
gets.  At  seven  he  shows  the  strength  of  twelve : 

Urta,  fracassa,  rompe,  quassa,  e  smembra; 

Orsi,  leoni,  tigri  non  paventa, 

Ma  contro  loro  intrepido  s*  avventa. 

The  octave  stanzas  become  a  cataract  of  verbs  and 
nouns  to  paint  his  tempestuous  childhood.  It  is  a 
spirited  comic  picture  of  the  Italian  enfant  terrible, 
stone-throwing,  boxing,  scuffling,  and  swearing  like  a 
pickpocket.  At  the  same  time  the  boy  grows  in  cun- 
ning, and  supports  his  mother  by  begging  from  one 
and  bullying  another  of  the  citizens  of  Sutri : — 

Then  shall  we  see  a  wonderful  dispute, 

As  each  with  each  they  wrangle,  bone  for  bone; 

One  grasps  an  arm,  one  grabs  a  hand,  a  foot; 

Comes  one  who  says,  "These  are  not  yours,  you  loon!" 

"  They're  mine!  "    "  They're  not! "    While  many  a  limb  of  brute 

Joined  to  their  human  bodies  shall  be  shown, 

Mule's  heads,  bull's  legs,  cruppers  and  ears  of  asses, 

As  each  man's  life  on  earth  his  spirit  classes. 

1  Canto  vi.  8-1 1 : 

Qui  nacque  Orlando,  1'  inclito  Barone; 
Qui  nacque  Orlando,  Senator  Romano,  etc. 


3*2  RENAISSANCE    IN  ITALY. 

Io  v'  addimando  per  1"  amor  di  Dio 
Un  pane  solo  ed  un  boccal  di  vino; 
Officio  non  fu  mai  piu  santo  e  pio 
Che  se  pascete  il  pover  pellegrino: 
Se  non  men  date,  vi  prometto  ch"  io, 
Quantunque  sia  di  membra  si  piccino, 
Ne  prendero  da  me  senza  riguardo; 
Che  salsa  non  vogl*  io  di  San  Bernardo. 

Cancar  vi  mangi,  datemi  a  mangiare, 
Se  non,  vi  buttero  le  porte  giuso; 
Per  debolezza  sentomi  mancare, 
E  le  budella  vannomi  a  riffuso. 
Gente  devota,  e  voi  persone  care 
Che  vi  leccate  di  buon  rosto  il  muso, 
Mandatemi,  per  Dio,  qualche  minestra, 
O  me  la  trate  gift  dalla  finestra. 

In  the  course  of  these  adventures  Orlandino  meets 
Oliver,  the  son  of  Rainero,  the  governor,  and  breaks 
his  crown  in  a  quarrel.  This  brings  about  the  catas- 
trophe ;  for  the  young  hero  pours  forth  such  a  torrent 
of  voluble  slang,  mixed  with  imprecations  and  menaces, 
that  Rainero  is  forced  to  acknowledge  the  presence  of 
a  superior  genius.1  But  before  the  curtain  falls  upon 
the  discovery  of  Orlandino's  parentage  and  his  reception 
into  the  company  of  peers,  Folengo  devotes  a  canto  to 
the  episodical  history^  of  the  Prelate  Griffarosto.2  The 
name  of  this  Rabelaisian  ecclesiastic — Claw-the-roast — 
sufficiently  indicates  the  line  of  the  poet's  satire. 

Whatever  appeared  in  the  market  of  Sutri  fit  for 
the  table,  fell  into  his  clutches,  or  was  transferred  to 

»  Canto  vii.  61-65. 

*  He  has  been  identified  on  sufficiently  plausible  grounds  with  Ig- 
nazio  Squarcialupo,  the  prior  of  Folengo's  convent.  In  the  Maccaronea 
this  burlesque  personage  reappears  as  the  keeper  of  a  tavern  in  hell, 
who  feeds  hungry  souls  on  the  most  hideous  messes  of  carrion  and  ver- 
min (Book  xxiii.  p.  217).  There  is  sufficient  rancor  in  Griffarosto's  por- 
trait to  justify  the  belief  that  Folengo  meant  in  it  to  gratify  a  private 
thirst  for  vengeance. 


GRIFFAROSTO.  323 

the  great  bag  he  wore  beneath  his  scapulary.  His 
library  consisted  of  cookery  books ;  and  all  the  tongues 
he  knew,  were  tongues  of  swine  and  oxen.1  Orlandino 
met  this  Griffarosto  fat  as  a  stalled  ox,  one  morning 
after  he  had  purchased  a  huge  sturgeon  : 

La  Reverenzia  vostra  non  si  parta; 
Statemi  alquanto,  prego,  ad  ascoltare. 
Nimis  sollicita  es,  o  Marta,  Marta, 
Circa  substantian  Christi  devorare. 
Dammi  poltron,  quel  pesce,  ch*  io  '1  disquarta, 
Per  poterlo  in  communi  dispensare, 
Nassa  d1  anguille  che  tu  sei,  lurcone; 
E  cib  dicendo  dagli  col  bastone. 

The  priest  was  compelled  to  disgorge  his  prey,  and 
the  fame  of  the  boy's  achievement  went  abroad  through 
Sutri.  Rainero  thereupon  sent  for  Griffarosto,  and 
treated  the  Abbot  to  such  a  compendious  abuse  of 
monks  in  general  as  would  have  delighted  a  Lutheran.2 
Griffarosto  essayed  to  answer  him  with  a  ludicrous 
jumble  of  dog  Latin;  but  the  Governor  requested 
him  to  defer  his  apology  for  the  morrow.  The  de- 
scription of  Griffarosto's  study  in  the  monastery,  where 
wine  and  victuals  fill  the  place  of  books,  his  oratory 
consecrated  to  Bacchus,  the  conversation  with  his  cook, 
and  the  ruse  by  which  the  cook  gets  chosen  Prior  in 
his  master's  place,  carry  on  the  satire  through  fifty 
stanzas  of  slashing  sarcasm.  The  whole  episode  is 
a  pendent  picture  to  Pulci's  Margutte.  Then,  by  a 
brusque  change  from  buffoonery  to  seriousness,  Folengo 
plunges  into  a  confession  of  faith,  attributed  to  Rainero, 
but  presumably  his  own.3  It  includes  the  essential 

1  In  the  play  on  the  word  lingue  there  is  a  side-thrust  at  the  Purists. 

2  Canto  viii.  23-32. 

3  Canto  viii.  73-84.     This  passage  I  have  also  translated  and  placed 


324  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

points  of  Catholic  orthodoxy,  abjuring  the  impostures 
of  priests  and  friars,  and  taking  final  station  on  the 
Lutheran  doctrine  of  salvation  by  faith  and  repentance. 
Idle  as  a  dream,  says  Folengo,  are  the  endeavors 
made  by  friars  to  force  scholastic  conclusions  on  the 
conscience  in  support  of  theses  S.  Paul  would  have 
rejected.  What  they  preach,  they  do  not  comprehend. 
Their  ignorance  is  only  equal  to  their  insolent  pre- 
tension. They  are  worse  than  Judas  in  their  treason 
to  Christ,  worse  than  Herod,  Anna,  Caiaphas,  01 
Pilate.  They  are  only  fit  to  consort  with,  usurers  and 
slaves.  They  use  the  names  of  saints  and  the  altar  of 
the  Virgin  as  the  means  of  glutting  their  avarice  with 
the  gold  of  superstitious  folk.  They  abuse  confession 
to  gratify  their  lusts.  Their  priories  are  dens  of  dogs, 
hawks,  and  reprobate  women.  They  revel  in  soft  beds, 
drink  to  intoxication,  and  stuff  themselves  with  unctuous 
food.  And  still  the  laity  intrust  their  souls  to  these 
rogues,  and  there  are  found  many  who  defraud  their 
kith  and  kin  in  order  to  enrich  a  convent!1 

It  would  not  be  easy  to  compose  an  invective  more 
suited  to  degrade  the  objects  of  a  satirist's  anger  by 
the  copiousness  and  the  tenacity  of  the  dirt  flung  at 
them.  Yet  the  Orlandino  was  written  by  a  monk, 
who,  though  he  had  left  his  convent,  was  on  the 
point  of  returning  to  it;  and  the  poem  was  openly 
printed  during  the  pontificate  of  Clement  VII.  That 
Folengo  should  have  escaped  inquisitorial  censure  is 

in  an  Appendix  to  this  chapter,  where  the  chief  Lutheran  utterances  cf 
the  burlesque  poets  will  be  found  together. 

1  In  addition  to  the  eighth  Canto,  I  have  drawn  on  iii.  4,  20;  iv.  13: 
vi.  44,  for  this  list 


FOLENGO' S   RELIGIOUS    OPINIONS.  3:5 

remarkable.  That  he  should  have  been  readmitted  to 
the  Benedictine  order  after  this  outburst  of  bile  and 
bold  diffusion  of  heretical  opinion,  is  only  explicable 
by  the  hatred  which  subsisted  in  Italy  between  the 
rules  of  S.  Francis  and  S.  Benedict.  While  attacking 
the  former,  he  gratified  the  spite  and  jealousy  of  the 
latter.  But  the  fact  is  that  his  auditors,  whether  lay  or 
clerical,  were  too  accustomed  to  similar  charges  and  too 
frankly  conscious  of  their  truth,  to  care  about  them. 
Folengo  stirred  no  indignation  in  the  people,  who  had 
laughed  at  ecclesiastical  corruption  since  the  golden 
days  of  the  Decameron.  He  roused  no  shame  in  the 
clergy,  for,  till  Luther  frightened  the  Church  into  that 
pseudo-reformation  which  Sarpi  styled  a  deformation 
of  manners,  the  authorities  of  Rome  were  nonchalantly 
careless  what  was  said  about  them.1  An  atrabilious 
monk  in  his  garret  vented  his  spleen  with  more  than 
usual  acrimony,  and  the  world  applauded.  Ha  fatto 
un  bel  libra !  That  was  all.  Conversely,  it  is  not 
strange  that  the  weighty  truths  about  religion  uttered 
by  Folengo  should  have  had  but  little  influence.  He 
was  a  scribbler,  famous  for  scurrility,  notoriously  pro- 
fligate in  private  life.  Free  thought  in  Italy  found 
itself  too  often  thus  in  company  with  immorality.  The 
names  of  heretic  and  Lutheran  carried  with  them  at  that 
time  a  reproach  more  pungent  and  more  reasonable 
than  is  usual  with  the  epithets  of  theological  hatred.2 

»  Leo  X.'s  complacent  acceptance  of  the  Mandragola  proves  this. 

2  The  curious  history  of  Giulio  Trissino,  told  by  Bernardo  Morsolin 
in  the  last  chapters  of  his  Giangiorgio  Trissino  (Vicenza,  1878),  reveals 
the  manner  of  men  who  adopted  Lutheranism  in  Italy  in  the  sixteenth 
century.  See  above,  p.  304.  I  shall  support  the  above  remarks  lower 
down  in  this  chapter  by  reference  to  Berni's  Lutheran  opinions. 


326  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

In  the  Orlandino,  Ariosto's  irony  is  degraded  to 
buffoonery.  The  prosaic  details  he  mingled  with  his 
poetry  are  made  the  material  of  a  new  and  vulgar 
comedy  of  manners.  The  satire  he  veiled  in  allegory 
or  polite  discussion,  bursts  into  open  virulence.  His 
licentiousness  yields  to  gross  obscenity.  The  chival- 
rous epic,  as  employed  for  purposes  of  art  in  Italy, 
contained  within  itself  the  germs  of  this  burlesque. 
It  was  only  necessary  to  develop  certain  motives  at 
the  expense  of  general  harmony,  to  suppress  the  noble 
and  pathetic  elements,  and  to  lower  the  literary  key  of 
utterance,  in  order  to  produce  a  parody.  Ariosto  had 
strained  the  semi-seriousness  of  romance  to  the  utmost 
limits  of  endurance.  For  his  successors  nothing  was 
left  but  imitation,  caricature,  or  divergence  upon  a 
different  track.  Of  these  alternatives,  Folengo  and 
Berni,  Aretino  and  Fortiguerra,  chose  the  second; 
Tasso  took  the  third,  and  provided  Tassoni  with  the 
occasion  of  a  new  burlesque. 

While  the  romantic  epic  lent  itself  thus  easily  to 
parody,  another  form  of  humorous  poetry  took  root 
and  flourished  on  the  mass  of  Latin  literature  pro- 
duced by  the  Revival.  Latin  never  became  a  wholly 
dead  language  in  Italy;  and  at  the  height  of  the 
Renaissance  a  public  had  been  formed  whose  appre- 
ciation of  classic  style  insured  a  welcome  for  its 
travesty.  To  depreciate  the  humanistic  currency  by 
an  alloy  of  plebeian  phrases,  borrowed  from  various 
base  dialects;  to  ape  Virgilian  mannerism  while  treat- 
ing of  the  lowest  themes  suggested  by  boisterous  mirth 
or  satiric  wit;  was  the  method  of  the  so-called  Mac- 
caronic  poets.  It  is  matter  for  debate  who  first  invented 


ORIGIN   OF  MACCARONIC    VERSE.  327 

this  style,  and  who  created  the  title  Maccaronea.  So 
far  back  as  the  thirteenth  century,  we  notice  a  blending 
of  Latin  with  French  and  German  in  certain  portions 
of  the  Carmina  Burana.1  But  the  two  elements  of 
language  here  lie  side  by  side,  without  interpenetration. 
This  imperfect  fusion  is  not  sufficient  to  constitute  the 
genuine  Maccaronic  manner.  The  jargon  known  as 
Maccaronic  must  consist  of  the  vernacular,  suited  with 
Latin  terminations,  and  freely  mingled  with  classical 
Latin  words.  Nothing  should  meet  the  ear  or  eye, 
which  does  not  sound  or  look  like  Latin;  but,  upon 
inspection,  it  must  be  discovered  that  a  half  or  third 
is  simple  slang  and  common  speech  tricked  out  with 
the  endings  of  Latin  declensions  and  conjugations.2  In 
Italy,  where  the  modern  tongue  retained  close  simi- 
larity to  Latin,  this  amalgamation  was  easy;  and  we 
find  that  in  the  fifteenth  century  the  hybrid  had  already 
assumed  finished  form.  The  name  by  which  it  was 
then  known,  indicates  its  composition.  As  maccaroni 
is  dressed  with  cheese  and  butter,  so  the  maccaronic 
poet  mixed  colloquial  expressions  of  the  people  with 
classical  Latin,  serving  up  a  dish  that  satisfied  the 
appetite  by  rarity  and  richness  of  concoction.  At  the 

1  The  political  and  ecclesiastical  satires  known  in  England  as  the  work 
of  Walter  Mapes,  abound  in  pseudo-Maccaronic  passages.    Compare  Du 
Me"ril,  Poesies  PopulairesLatines  anterieures  au  xiime  Siecle,  p.  142,  etc.', 
for  further  specimens  of  undeveloped  Maccaronic  poetry  of  the  middle  ages. 

2  Those  who  are  curious  to  study  this  subject  further,  should  consult 
the  two  exhaustive  works  of  Octave  Delepierre,  MacaronSana  (Paris, 
1852),  and  Macaroneana  Andra  (Londres,  Trubner,  1862).     These  two 
publications  contain  a  history  of  Maccaronic  verse,  with  reprints  of  the 
scarcer  poems  in  this  style.     The  second  gives  the  best  text  of  Odassi, 
Fossa,  and  the  Virgiliana.    Th&MaccheroneediCinquePoetiltaliani^- 
lano,  Daelli,  1864),  is  a  useful  little  book,  since  it  reproduces  Delepierre 's 
collections  in  a  cheap  and  convenient  form.     In  the  uncertainty  which 
attends  the  spelling  of  this  word,  I  have  adopted  the  form  Maccaronic 


328  RENAISSANCE    IN  ITALY. 

same  time,  since  maccaroni  was  the  special  delicacy  of 
the  proletariate,  and  since  a  stupid  fellow  was  called  a 
Macchcrone,  the  ineptitude  and  the  vulgarity  of  the 
species  are  indicated  by  its  title.  Among  the  Macca- 
ronic  poets  we  invariably  find  ourselves  in  low  Bohe- 
mian company.  No  Phoebus  sends  them  inspiration; 
nor  do  they  slake  their  thirst  at  the  Castalian  spring. 
The  muses  they  invoke  are  tavern-wenches  and  scul- 
lions, haunting  the  slums  and  stews  of  Lombard  cities.1 
Their  mistresses  are  of  the  same  type  as  Villon's  Mar- 
got.  Mountains  of  cheese,  rivers  of  fat  broth,  are 
their  Helicon  and  Hippocrene.  Their  pictures  of  man- 
ners demand  a  coarser  brush  than  Hogarth's  to  do 
them  justice. 

Before  engaging  in  the  criticism  of  this  Maccaronic 
literature,  it  is  necessary  to  interpolate  some  notice  of 
a  kindred  style,  called  pedantesco.  This  was  the  exact 
converse  of  the  Maccaronic  manner.  Instead  of  adap- 
ting Italian  to  the  rules  of  Latin,  the  parodist  now 
treated  Latin  according  to  the  grammatical  usages 
and  metrical  laws  of  Italian.  A  good  deal  of  the 
Hypncrotomachia  Poliphili  is  written  in  lingua  pedan- 
tcsca.  But  the  recognized  masterpiece  of  the  species 
is  a  book  called  /  Cantici  di  Fidentio  Glottogrysio 
Ludimagistro.  The  author's  real  name  was  Camillo 
Scrofa,  a  humanist  and  schoolmaster  of  Vicenza. 

Though  more  than  once  reprinted,  together  with  simi- 

• 

'  Take  one  example,  from  the  induction  to  Odassi's  poems  (Mac. 
Andr.  p.  63): 

O  putanarum  putanissima,  vacca  vaccarum, 
O  potifarum  potissima  pota  potaza  .  .  . 
Tu  Phrosina  mihi  foveas,  mea  sola  voluptas; 
Nulla  mihi  poterit  melius  succurrere  Musa, 
Nullus  Apollo  magis. 


THE    PEDANTESQUE   STYLE.  329 

lar  compositions  by  equally  obscure  craftsmen,  his 
verses  are  exceedingly  rare.1  They  owe  their  neglect 
partly  to  the  absurdity  of  their  language,  partly  to  the 
undisguised  immorality  of  their  subject-matter.  Of 
the  stilo  pedantesco  the  following  specimen  may  suffice. 
It  describes  a  hostelry  of  boors  and  peasants2: 

Pur  pedetentim  giunsi  ad  un  cubiculo, 

Sordido,  inelegante,  ove  molti  hospiti 

Facean  corona  a  un  semimortuo  igniculo. 
Salvete,  dissi,  et  Giove  lieti  e  sospiti 

Vi  riconduca  a  i  vostri  dolci  hospitii! 

Ma  response  non  hebbi;  o  rudi,  o  inhospiti! 
lo  che  tra  veri  equestri  e  tra  patritii 

Soglio  seder,  mi  vedi  alhor  negligere 

Da  quegli  huomini  novi  et  adventitii. 
Non  sapea  quasi  indignabundo  eligere 

Partito;  pur  al  fin  fu  necessario 

Tra  lor  per  calefarmi  un  scanno  erigere. 
Che  colloquio,  O  Dii  boni,  empio  e  nefario 

Pervenne  a  1*  aure  nostre  purgatissime, 

Da  muover  nausea  a  un  lenone  a  un  sicario! 

One  of  the  most  famous  and  earliest,  if  not  abso- 
lutely the  first  among  the  authors  of  Maccaronic  verse, 
was  Tifi  Odassi,  a  Paduan,  whose  poems  were  given 
to  the  press  after  his  death,  in  at  least  two  editions 
earlier  than  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century.3  He 
chose  a  commonplace  Novella  for  his  theme;  but  the 

1  The  book  was  first  printed  at  Vicenza.  The  copy  I  have  studied 
is  the  Florentine  edition  of  1574.  Scrofa's  verses,  detached  from  the 
collection,  may  be  found  in  the  Parnaso  Italiano,  vol.  xxv. 

2  Op.  cit.  p.  23. 

3  Bernardino  Scardeone  in  his  work  De  antiquitate  urbis  Patavii,  etc. 
(Basileae,  1560),  speaks  of  Odassi  as  the  inventor  of  Maccaronic  poetry: 
"adiavenit  enim  primus  ridiculum  carminis  genus,  nunquam  prius  a 
quopiam  excogitatum,  quod  Macaronaeum  nuncupavit,  multis  farcitum 
salibus,  et  satyrica  mordacitate  respersum."     He  adds  that  Odassi  de- 
sired on  his  deathbed  that  the  book  should  be  burned.     In  spite  of  this 
wish,  it  was  frequently  reprinted  during  Scardeone's  lifetime. 


330  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

interest  of  his  tale  consists  less  in  its  argument  than  in 
its  vivid  descriptions  of  low  town-life.  Odassi's  por- 
traits of  plebeian  characters  are  executed  with  masterly 
realism,  and  the  novelty  of  the  vehicle  gives  them  a 
singularly  trenchant  force.  It  is  unfortunately  impos- 
sible to  bring  either  the  cook-shop-keeper  or  his  female 
servant,  the  mountebank  or  the  glutton,  before  modern 
readers.  These  pictures  are  too  Rabelaisian.1  I  must 
content  myself  with  a  passage  taken  from  the  descrip- 
tion of  a  bad  painter,  which,  though  it  is  inferior  in 
comic  power,  contains  nothing  unpardonably  gross.2 

Quodsi  forte  aliquem  voluit  depingere  gallum, 
Quicunque  aspiciat  poterit  jurare  cigognam; 
Depinxitque  semel  canes  in  caza  currentes, 
Omnes  credebant  natantes  in  sequore  luzos; 
Sive  hominem  pingit,  poteris  tu  credere  lignum 
In  quo  sartores  ponunt  sine  capite  vestes; 
Seu  nudos  facit  multo  sudore  putinos, 
Tu  caput  a  culo  poteris  dignoscere  nunquam; 
Sive  facit  gremio  Christum  retinere  Mariam, 
Non  licet  a  filio  sanctam  dignoscere  matrem; 
Pro  gardelinis  depingit  sepe  gallinas, 
Et  ppo  gallinis  depingit  sepe  caballos: 
Blasfemat,  jurat,  culpam  dicit  esse  penelli, 
Quos  spazzaturas  poteris  jurare  de  bruscho; 
Tarn  bene  depingit  pictorum  pessimus  iste, 
Nee  tamen  inferior  se  cogitat  esse  Bellino. 

It  will  be  seen  from  this  specimen  that  Italian  and 
Latin  are  confounded  without  regard  to  either  prosody 
or  propriety  of  diction.  The  style,  far  from  being 
even  pedestrian,  is  reptile,  and  the  inspiration  is  worthy 

>  It  is  with  great  regret  that  I  omit  Bertapalia,  the  charlatan — a  por- 
trait executed  with  inimitable  verve.  Students  of  Italian  life  in  its  low- 
est and  liveliest  details  should  seek  him  out.  Mac.  And?*,  pp.  68-71. 

*  Ibid.  p.  71.     I  have  altered  spelling  and  punctuation. 


TIFI   ODASSL 


33' 


of  the  source  imagined  by  the  poet.1  As  Odassi  re- 
marks in  his  induction: 

Aspices,  lector,  Prisciani  vulnera  mille 
Gramaticamque  novam,  quam  nos  docuere  putane. 

The  note  struck  by  Odassi  was  sustained  by  his  imme- 
diate imitators.  Another  Paduan  author  used  this  par- 
ody of  humanistic  verse  to  caricature  a  humanist,  whom 
he  called  Vigonga.2  Like  Odassi,  he  invoked  Venus 
Volgivaga;  and  like  Odassi's,  very  little  of  his  verse  is 
quotable.  The  following  extracts  may  be  found  accep- 
table for  their  humorous  account  of  a  Professor's  inau- 
gural lecture  in  the  university  of  Padua.3  Vigonga 
announces  the  opening  of  his  course: 

Ipse  ante  totis  facit  asavere  piacis, 

Et  totis  scolis  mandat  bolletina  bidelis, 

Quas  bolletina  portabant  talia  verba: 

"  Comes  magnificus  cavalerius  ille  Vigonca, 

Patricius  Patavus  comesque  ab  origine  longa, 

Vos  rogat  ad  primam  veniatis  quisque  legendam; 

Qui  veniet,  magnum  fructum  portabit  a  casa." 

Omnes  venturos  sese  dixere  libenter; 

Promissit  comes,  capitaneus  atque  potestas, 

Et  paduani  vechi  juvenesque  politi. 

Lux  promissa  aderat,  qua  se  smatare  Vigonga 

Debebat,  atque  suam  cunctis  monstrare  matieram. 

Ille  tamen  totam  facit  congare  la  scolam, 

De  nigro  totam  facit  conzare  cathedram, 

* ; 

1  Cognosces  in  me  quantum  tua  numina  possunt, 
Quasque  tua  veniunt  stilantia  carmina  pota. 

»  This  anonymous  poet  has  been  variously  identified  with  Odassi  and 
with  Fossa  of  Cremona.  The  frequent  occurrence  of  Paduan  idioms 
seems  to  point  to  a  Paduan  rather  than  a  Cremonese  author;  and  though 
there  is  no  authoritative  reason  for  referring  the  poem  to  Odassi,  it  re- 
sembles his  style  sufficiently  to  render  the  hypothesis  of  his  authorship 
very  plausible.  The  name  of  the  hero,  Vigonga,  is  probably  the  Italian 
Bigoncia,  which  meant  in  one  sense  a  pulpit  or  a  reading-desk,  in  its 
ordinary  sense  a  tub. 

s  Daelli,  Maccheronee  di  Cinque  Poeti  Italiani  (Milano,  1864),  p.  5°; 
cp.  Mac,  Andr.  p.  19. 


332  RENAISSANCE    IN  ITALY. 

In  qua  debebat  matus  sprologare  Vigon^a; 

Cetera  fulgebant  banchalis  atque  thapetis, 

Et  decem  in  brochis  dicit  spendidisse  duchatos. 

After  narrating  how  the  whole  town  responded  to  Vigon- 
ca's  invitation,  and  how  the  folk  assembled  to  hear  his 
first  address,  the  poet  thus  describes  the  great  occasion l : 

Sed  neque  bastabat  ingens  intrantibus  ussus; 
Rumpebant  cupos  parietes  atque  fenestras, 
Inque  ipso  multos  busos  fecere  parete. 
Tune  ibi  bidelus  cunctos  ratione  pregavit, 
Et  sibi  cavavit  nigrum  Vigonga  biretum, 
Et  manicas  alzans  dedit  hie  sua  verba  de  mato, 
Et  comengavit  sanctam  faciendo  la  crucem. 
"  Magnifice  pretor,  pariter  generose  prefecte, 
Tu  facunde  comes  auri  portando  colanam, 
Magnus  philosophus,  lingua  in  utraque  poeta, 
Tu  primicerius,  Venete  spes  alma  paludis, 
Et  vos  doctores,  celeberrima  fama  per  orbem, 
Vos  cavalerii  multum  sperone  dorati, 
Vosque  scolares,  cives,  charique  sodales! 
Non  ego  perdivi  tempus  futuendo  putanas, 
Non  ego  zugando,  non  per  bordella  vagando; 
Non  ego  cum  canibus  lepores  seguendo  veloces, 
Non  cum  sparveris,  non  cum  falconibus  ipse; 
Non  ego  cum  dadis  tabulam  lissando  per  ullam; 
Non  ego  cum  chartis  volui  dissipare  dinaros, 
Qualiter  in  Padue  faciunt  de  nocte  scolares. 
Quum  jocant  alii,  stabat  in  casa  Vigonc,a 
Et  studiabat  guardando  volumina  longa." 

This  Paduan  caricature  may  be  reckoned  among 
the  most  valuable  documents  we  possess  for  the  illus- 
tration of  the  professorial  system  in  Italy  during  the 
ascendancy  of  humanism.  Some  material  of  the  same 
kind  is  supplied  by  the  Virgiliana  of  Evangelista 
Fossa,  a  Cremonese  gentleman,  who  versified  a  Vene- 
tian Burla  in  mock-heroic  Latin.  He,  too,  painted  the 
portrait  of  a  pedant,  Priscianus 2 : 

>  Daelli,  op.  cit.  pp.  52,  54. 

«  Ibid.  p.  112;  Mac.  Andra,  p.  32. 


CARICATURE    OF  HUMANISTS. 


333 


Est  mirandus  homo;  nam  sunt  miracula  in  illo, 

Omnes  virtutes  habet  hie  in  testa  fichatas  .  .  . 

Nam  quicquid  dicit,  semper  per  littera  parlat, 

Atque  habet  in  boccham  pulchra  haec  proverbia  semper.  .  .  . 

Est  letrutus  nam  multum,  studiavit  in  omni 

Arte,  fuit  Padoe,  fuit  in  la  citta  de  Perosa, 

Bononie  multum  mansit  de  senno  robando. 

But  Fossa's  Virgiliana,  while  aiming  at  a  more  subtle 
sort  of  parody  than  the  purely  maccaronic  poems,  misses 
their  peculiar  salt,  and,  except  for  the  Hudibrastic 
description  of  the  author  on  horseback,1  offers  nothing 
of  great  interest. 

Brief  notice  also  may  be  taken  of  Giovan  Giorgio 
Alione's  satire  on  the  Lombards.  Alione  was  a  native 
of  Asti,  and  seasoned  his  maccaroni  with  the  base 
French  of  his  birthplace.  For  Asti,  transferred  to  the 
House  of  Orleans  by  Gian  Galeazzo  Visconti,  was 
more  than  half  a  French  city  and  its  inhabitants  spoke 
the  Gallic  dialect  common  to  Piedmont.2  Alione  is 
proud  of  this  subjection,  and  twits  the  Lombards  of 
Milan  and  Pavia  with  being  unworthy  of  their  ancient 
origin  no  less  than  of  their  modern  masters.3  Unlike 
the  ordinary  run  of  burlesque  poems,  his  Macharonea 
is  virulently  satirical.  Animated  by  a  real  rage 
against  the  North  Italians,  Alione  paints  them  as 
effeminate  cowards,  devoid  of  the  sense  of  honor  and 
debased  by  the  vices  of  ill-bred  parvenus.  The  open- 

i  "  De  fossa  compositore  quando  venit  patavio  "  (Mac.  Andra,  p.  39). 
*  Alione  says: 

Cum  nos  Astenses  reputemur  undique  Galli. 

>  See  the  passage  beginning  "  O  Longobardi  frapatores,"  and  end- 
ing with  these  lines: 

Tune  baratasti  Gallorum  nobile  nomen 
Cum  Longobardo,  etc. 
Daelli,  op.  cit.  p.  94. 


334  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

ing  of  a  Novella  he  relates,  may  be  cited  as  a  fair 
specimen  of  his  style 1 : 

Quidam  Franzosus,  volens  tornare  Parisum, 

Certum  Milaneysum  scontravit  extra  viglianam 

Sine  capello  docheti  testa  bagnatum: 

Et  cum  ignoraret  Gallicus  hie  unde  fuisset 

Dixit  vulgariter  estes  vous  moglie  man  amicus  f 

Ille  qui  intelligit  a  la  rebusa,  respondit 

Sy  sy  mi  che  ho  mogle  Milani  et  anca  fiolos. 

Callus  tune  cernens  Lombardum  fore  loquela, 

Et  recordatus  quod  tempore  guerre  Salucis 

Alixandrini  fecerant  pagare  menestram 

Scutumque  sibi  sgrafignarant  de  gibesera, 

Sfodravit  ensem  dicens  o  tretre  ribalde 

Rendez  may  sa  mon  escu,  sy  non  a  la  morte  spazat. 

The  end  of  the  story  is  far  too  crude  to  quote,  and  it 
is  probable  that  even  the  most  curious  readers  will 
already  have  had  enough  of  Alione's  peculiar  gibberish. 
The  maccaronic  style  had  reached  this  point  when 
Folengo  took  possession  of  it,  stamped  it  with  his  own 
genius,  and  employed  it  for  one  of  the  most  important 
poems  of  the  century.  He  is  said  to  have  begun  a 
serious  Latin  epic  in  his  early  manhood,  and  to  have 
laid  this  aside  because  he  foresaw  the  impossibility  of 
wresting  the  laurels  from  Virgil.  This  story  is 
probably  a  legend ;  but  it  contains  at  least  an  element 
of  truth.  Folengo  aimed  at  originality;  he  chose  to 
be  the  first  of  burlesque  Latin  poets  rather  than  to 
claim  the  name  and  fame  of  a  Virgilian  imitator.2  In 

'  Daelli,  p.  93. 

*  In  the  first  book  of  the  MffScheis,  line  7,  he.  says: 

Gens  ceratana  sinat  vecchias  cantare  batajas, 

Squarzet  Virgilios  turba  pedanta  suos. 

The  end  of  the  Maccaronea  sets  forth  the  impossibility  of  modern  bards 
contending  with  the  great  poet  of  antiquity.  Pontanus,  Sannazzarius, 
all  the  best  Latin  writers  of  the  age,  pale  before  Virgil: 


FOLENGO'S    USE    OF    THE    STYLE.  335 

the  proemium  to  his  Moscheis  he  professes  to  have  found 
the  orthodox  Apollo  deaf  to  his  prayers: 

Illius  heu  frustra  doctas  captare  sorores 
Speravi  ac  multa  laude  tenere  polos. 

The  reason  of  the  god's  anger  was  that  his  votary  had 
sullied  the  clear  springs  of  Hippocrene: 

Nescio  quas  reperi  musas,  turpesve  sorores, 
Nescio  quas  turpi  carmina  voce  canunt. 

Limpida  Pegasidum  vitiavi  stagna  profanus, 
Totaque  sunt  limo  dedecorata  meo. 

The  exordium  to  the  Maccaronea  introduces  us  to  these 
vulgar  Muses,  grosses  Camcence,  who  fill  their  neophytes 
with  maccaronic  inspiration: 

Jam  nee  Melpomene,  Clio,  nee  magna  Thalia, 
Nee  Phoebus  grattando  lyram  mihi  carmina  dictet, 
Qui  tantos  olim  doctos  fecere  poetas; 
Verum  cara  mihi  foveat  solummodo  Berta, 
Gosaque,  Togna  simul,  Mafelina,  Pedrala,  Comina. 
Veridicae  Musae  sunt  hae,  doctaeque  sorellae; 
Quarum  non  multis  habitatio  nota  poetis. 

The  holy  hill  of  Folengo's  Muses  is  a  mountain  of 
cheese  and  maccaroni,  with  lakes  of  broth  and  rivers 
of  unctuous  sauces: 

Stant  ipsae  Musae  super  altum  montis  acumen, 
Formajum  gratulis  durum  retridando  foratis. 

Non  tamen  aequatur  vati  quern  protulit  Andes, 
Namque  vetusta  nocet  laus  nobis  saepe  modernis. 

This  refrain  he  repeats  for  each  poet  with  whimsical  reiteration.  Fo- 
lengo's own  ambition  to  take  the  first  place  among  burlesque  writers 
appears  in  the  final  lines  of  Mac.  book  iii.: 

Mantua  Virgilio  gaudet,  Verona  Catullo, 
Dante  suo  florens  urbs  Tusca,  Cipada  Cocajo: 
Dicor  ego  superans  alios  levitate  poetas, 
Ut  Maro  medesimos  superans  gravitate  poetas. 

The  induction  to  the  Moscheis  points  to  a  serious  heroic  poem  on  Man- 
tua, which  he  abandoned  for  want  of  inspiration.  We  have  in  these 
references  enough  to  account  for  the  myth  above  mentioned. 


336  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Here  he  seeks  them,  and  here  they  deign  to  crown 
him  poet l : 

Ergo  macaronicas  illic  cattavimus  artes, 
Et  me  grossiloquum  vatem  statuere  sorores. 

We  have  seen  already  that  the  maccaronic  style 
involved  a  free  use  of  plebeian  Italian,  imbedded  in 
a  mixed  mass  of  classical  and  medieval  Latinity. 
Folengo  refined  the  usage  of  his  predecessors,  by 
improving  the  versification,  adopting  a  more  uniformly 
heroic  tone,  and  introducing  scraps  of  Mantuan  dialect 
at  unexpected  intervals,  so  that  each  lapse  into  Italian 
has  the  force  of  a  surprise — what  the  Greeks  called 
irapd  itpo6§oxiav.  The  comic  effect  is  produced  by  a 
sustained  epical  inflation,  breaking  irregularly  into  the 
coarsest  and  least  pardonable  freaks  of  vulgarity.  It 
is  as  though  the  poet  were  improvizing,  emulous  of 
Virgil;  but  the  tide  of  inspiration  fails  him,  he  falls 
short  of  classical  phrases  to  express  his  thoughts,  and 
is  forced  in  the  hurry  of  the  moment  to  avail  himself 
of  words  and  images  that  lie  more  close  at  hand.  His 
Pegasus  is  a  showy  hack,  who  ambles  on  the  bypaths 
of  Parnassus,  dropping  now  and  then  a  spavined  hock 
and  stumbling  back  into  his  paces  with  a  snort.  His 
war-trumpet  utters  a  sonorous  fanfaronnade;  but  the 
blower  loses  breath,  and  breaks  his  note,  or  suffers  it 
to  lapse  into  a  lamentable  quaver. 

Tifi    Odassi,  who  may  be  regarded   as    Folengo's 
master  in  this  species  of  v.erse,  confined  the  Maccaronic 

1  Compare  Mac.  vii.  p.  195. 

Nil  nisi  crassiloquas  dicor  scrivisse  camoenas, 
Crassiloquis  igitur  dicamus  magna  camoenis. 

This  great  theme  is  nothing  less  than  monasticism  in  its  vilest  aspects. 


A    MACCARONIC   EPIC.  337 

Muse  to  quaintly-finished  sketches  in  the  Dutch  style.1 
His  pupil  raised  her  to  the  dignity  of  Clio  and  com- 
posed an  epic  in  twenty-five  books.  The  length  of 
this  poem  and  the  strangeness  of  the  manner  render  it 
unpalatable  to  all  but  serious  students  at  the  present 
time.  Its  humor  has  evaporated,  and  the  form  itself 
strikes  us  as  rococo.  We  experience  some  difficulty 
in  sympathizing  with  those  readers  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  who,  perfectly  acquainted  with  Latin  poetry 
and  accustomed  to  derive  intellectual  pleasure  from  its 
practice,  found  exquisite  amusement  in  so  cleverly 
constructed  a  parody.  Nor  is  it  possible  for  English- 
men to  appreciate  the  more  delicate  irony^  of  the 
vulgarisms,  which  Folengo  adopted  from  one  of  the 
coarsest  Italian  dialects,  and  cemented  with  subtle  skill 
upon  the  stately  structure  of  his  hexameters.  Still  we 
may  remember  that  the  Maccaronea  was  read  with 
profit  by  Rabelais,  and  that  much  of  Butler's  humor 
betrays  a  strong  affinity  to  this  antiquated  burlesque. 
In  substance  the  Maccaronea  begins  with  a  rehand- 
ling  of  the  Orlandino.  Guido,  peerless  among  Pala- 
dins, wins  the  love  of  his  king's  daughter,  Baldovina  of 
France.  They  fly  together  into  Italy,  and  she  dies  in 
giving  birth  to  a  son  at  Cipada,  near  Mantua.  Guido 
disappears,  and  the  boy,  Baldus,  is  brought  up  by  a 
couple  of  peasants.  He  believes  himself  to  be  their 
child,  and  recognizes  the  rustic  boor,  Zambellus,  for  his 
brother.  Still  the  hero's  nature  reveals  itself  in  the 
village  urchin ;  and,  like  the  young  Orlando,  Baldus 
performs  prodigies  of  valor  in  his  boyhood : 

1  At  the  end  of  the  Maccaronea  I  think  there  may  be  an  allusion  to 
Odassi  conveyed  in  these  words,  Tifi  Caroloque  futuris. 


338  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Non  it  post  vaccas,  at  saepe  caminat  ad  urbem, 
Ac  ad  Panadae  dispectum  praticat  illam; 
In  villam  semper  tornabat  vespere  facto, 
Portabatque  caput  fractum  gambasque  macatas. 

When  he  goes  to  school,  he  begins  by  learning  his 
letters  with  great  readiness.  But  he  soon  turns  away 
from  grammar  to  books  of  chivalry : 

Sed  mox  Orlandi  nasare  volumina  coepit: 
Non  vacat  ultra  deponentia  discere  verba, 
Non  species,  numeros,  non  casus  atque  figuras, 
Non  Doctrinalis  versamina  tradere  menti: 
Fecit  de  norma  scartazzos  mille  Donati 
Inque  Perotinum  librum  salcicia  coxit. 
Orlandi  solum,  nee  non  fera  bella  Rinaldi 
Aggradant;  animum  faciebat  talibus  altum: 
Legerat  Ancrojam,  Tribisondam,  gesta  Danesi, 
Antonaeque  Bovum,  mox  tota  Realea  Francae, 
Innamoramentum  Carlonis  et  Asperamontem, 
Spagnam,  Altobellum,  Morgantis  facta  gigantis. 

And  so  forth  through  the  whole  list  of  chivalrous 
romances,  down  to  the  Orlando  Furioso  and  the 
Orlandino.  The  boy's  heart  is  set  on  deeds  of  daring. 
He  makes  himself  the  captain  of  a  band  of  rogues  who 
turn  the  village  of  Cipada  upside  down.  Three  of 
these  deserve  especial  notice — Fracassus,  Cingar,  and 
Falchettus;  since  they  became  the  henchmen  of  our 
hero  in  all  his  subsequent  exploits.  Fracassus  was 
descended  in  the  direct  line  from  Morgante : 

Primus  erat  quidam  Fracassus  prole  gigantis, 
Cujus  stirps  olim  Morganto  venit  ab  illo, 
Qui  bachiocconem  campanae  ferre  solebat 
Cum  quo  mille  homlnum  colpo  sfracasset  in  uno. 

Cingar  in  like  manner  drew  his  blood  from  Pulci's 
Margutte : 

Alter  erat  Baldi  compagnus,  nomine  Cingar, 
Accortus,  ladro,  semper  truffare  paratus; 


THE   HERO   B ALDUS.  339 

Scarnus  enim  facie,  reliquo  sed  corpora  nervis 
Plenus,  compressus,  picolinus,  brunus,  et  atrox, 
Semper  habens  nudam  testam,  rizzutus  et  asper. 
Iste  suam  traxit  Marguti  a  sanguine  razzam, 
Qui  ad  calcagnos  sperones  ut  gallus  habebat 
Et  nimio  risu  simia  cagante  morivit. 

Falchettus  boasted  a  still  stranger  origin l : 

Sed  quidnam  de  te,  Falchette  stupende,  canemus  ? 
Tu  quoque  pro  Baldo  bramasti  prendere  mortem. 
Forsitan,  o  lector,  quae  dico,  dura  videntur, 
Namque  Pulicano  Falchettus  venit  ab  illo 
Quern  scripsere  virum  medium,  mediumque  catellum; 
Quapropter  sic  sic  noster  Falchettus  habebat 
Anteriora  viri,  sed  posteriora  canina. 

It  would  be  too  long  to  relate  how  Baldus  received 
knightly  education  from  a  nobleman  who  admired  his 
daring;  how,  ignorant  of  his  illustrious  blood,  he 
married  the  village  beauty  Berta;  and  how  he  made 
himself  the  petty  tyrant  of  Cipada.  The  exploits  of 
his  youth  are  a  satire  on  the  violence  of  local  magnates, 
whose  manners  differed  little  from  those  of  the  peasants 
they  oppressed.  In  course  of  time  Baldus  fell  under 
the  displeasure  of  a  despot  stronger  than  himself,  and 
was  shut  up  in  prison.2  In  the  absence  of  his  hero 
from  the  scene,  the  poet  now  devotes  himself  to 
the  exploits  of  Cingar  among  the  peasants  of 
Cipada.  Without  lowering  his  epic  tone,  Folengo 
fills  five  books  with  whimsical  adventures,  painting  the 

1  I  do  not  recognize  Pulicanus,  who  is  said  to  be  the  ancestor  of  Fal- 
chettus.    Is  it  a  misprint  for  Fulicanus  ?    Fulicano  is  a  giant  in  Bello's 
Mambriano,  one  of  Folengo 's  favorite  poems  of  romance. 

2  Mac.  iii.     The  edition  I  quote  from  is  that  of  Mantua  (?)  under 
name  of  Amsterdam,  1769  and  1771,  2  vols.  4to.    See  vol.  i.  p.  117.  for 
a  satire  on  the  frauds  and  injustice  of  a  country  law-court,  followed  by 
a  mock  heroic  panegyric  of  the  Casa  Gonzaga.    The  description  of  their 
celebrated  stud  and  breed  of  horses  may  be  read  with  interest. 


340  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

manners  of  the  country  in  their  coarsest  colors,  and 
introducing  passages  of  stinging  satire  on  the  monks 
he  hated.1  Cingar,  finding  himself  on  one  occasion 
in  a  convent,  gives  vent  to  a  long  soliloquy  which 
expresses  Folengo's  own  contempt  for  the  monastic 
institutions  that  filled  Italy  with  rogues: 

Quo  diavol,  ait,  tanti  venere  capuzzi  ? 

Nil  nisi  per  mundum  video  portare  capuzzos: 

Quisquam  vult  fieri  Frater,  vult  quisque  capuzzum. 

Postquam  giocarunt  nummos,  tascasque  vodarunt, 

Postquam  pane  caret  cophinum,  celaria  vino, 

In  Fratres  properant,  datur  his  exfemplo  capuzzus. 

Undique  sunt  isti  Fratres,  istique  capuzzi. 

Qui  sint  nescimus;  discernare  nemo  valeret 

Tantas  vestitum  foggias,  tantosque  colores: 

Sunt  pars  turchini,  pars  nigri,  parsque  morelli, 

Pars  albi,  russi,  pars  gialdi,  parsque  bretini. 

Si  per  iter  vado  telluris,  cerno  capuzzos: 

Si  per  iter  pelagi,  non  mancum  cerno  capuzzos; 

Quando  per  armatos  eo  campos,  cerno  capuzzos; 

Sive  forum  subeo,  sive  barcam,  sive  tabernam, 

Protinus  ante  oculos  aliquem  mihi  cerno  capuzzum. 

There  will  soon  be  no  one  left  to  bear  arms,  till  the 
fields,  or  ply  the  common  handicrafts.  All  the  villains 
make  themselves  monks,  aspiring  to  ecclesiastical 
honors  and  seeking  the  grade  of  superiority  denied 
them  by  their  birth.  It  is  ambition  that  fills  the 
convents: 

Illic  nobilitas  sub  rusticitate  laborat, 
Ambitio  quoniam  villanos  unica  brancat. 

1  The  episode  of  Berta's  battle  with  her  sister  Laena  (Mac.  iv.  p.  144), 
the  apostrophe  to  old  age  (Mac.  v.  p*.  152),  the  village  ball  (ibid.  p.  163), 
the  tricks  played  by  Cingar  on  Zambellus  (ibid.  p.  168,  and  Mac.  vi.),  the 
description  of  the  convent  of  Motella  (Mac.  vii.  196),  the  portrait  of  the 
ignorant  parish-priest  (Mac.  vii.  p.  202),  the  Carnival  Mass  (Mac.  viii. 
p.  212),  followed  by  a  drunken  Kcr  Mess  (ibid.  p.  214),  are  all  executed 
in  the  broad  style  of  a  Dutch  painter,  and  abound  in  realistic  sketches 
of  Lombard  country-life.  • 


MONKS   AND    PRIESTS.  34! 

This  tirade  is  followed  by  the  portrait  of  Prae 
Jacopinus,  a  village  parson  whose  stupidity  is  only 
equaled  by  his  vices.  Jacopino's  education  in  the 
alphabet  is  a  masterpiece  of  Rabelaisian  humor,  and 
the  following  passage  on  his  celebration  of  the  Mass 
brings  all  the  sordidness  of  rustic  ceremonial  before 
our  eyes 1 : 

Prseterea  Missam  foggia  dicebat  in  una, 
Nee  crucis  in  fronte  signum  formare  sciebat. 
Inter  Confiteor  parvum  discrimen  et  Amen 
Semper  erat,  jam  jam  meditans  adjungere  finem; 
Incipiebat  enim  nee  adhuc  in  nomine  Patris, 
Quod  tribus  in  saltis  veniebat  ad  Ite  misestum. 

From  generalities  Folengo  passes  to  particulars  in  the 
following  description  of  a  village  Mass 2 : 

Inde  Jacopinus,  chiamatis  undique  Pretis, 
Coeperat  in  gorga  Missam  cantare  stupendam; 
Subsequitant  alii,  magnisque  cridoribus  instant. 
Protinus  Introitum  spazzant  talqualiter  omnem, 
Ad  Chyrios  veniunt,  quos  miro  dicere  sentis 
Cum  contrappunto,  veluti  si  cantor  adesset 
Master  Adrianus,  Constantius  atque  Jachettus. 
Hie  per  dolcezzam  scorlabant  corda  vilani 
Quando  de  quintis  terzisque  calabat  in  unam 
Musicus  octavam  noster  Jacopinus  et  ipsas 
Providus  octavas  longa  cum  voce  tirabat. 
Gloria  in  excelsis  passat,  jam  Credo  propinquat; 
Oh  si  Josquinus  Cantorum  splendor  adesset! 

Meanwhile  Baldus  has  been  left  in  prison,  and  it  is 
time  for  Cingar  to  undertake  his  rescue.  He  effects 
this  feat,  by  stripping  two  Franciscan  monks,  and 
dressing  himself  up  in  the  frock  he  has  just  niched 

1  Mac.  vii.  p.  204. 

2  Mac.  vii.  p.  212.     Folengo  seems  to  have  been  fond  of  music.    See 
the  whimsical  description  of  four-part  singing,  Mac.  xx.  p.  139,  followed 
by  the  panegyric  of  Music  and  the  malediction  of  her  detractors. 


342  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

from  one  of  them,  while  he  coaxes  the  unfortunate 
Zambellus  to  assume  the  other.  Then  he  persuades 
the  people  of  Mantua  that  he  has  seen  himself  assassi- 
nated on  the  high  road ;  gains  access  to  Baldus  in  the 
dungeon,  on  the  plea  of  hearing  his  confession ;  and 
contrives  to  leave  Zambellus  there  in  the  clothes  of 
Baldus,  after  disguising  his  friend  in  one  of  the  friar's 
tunics.  The  story  is  too  intricate  for  repetition  here.1 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  Baldus  escapes  and  meets  a  knight 
errant,  Leonardus,  at  the  city  gate,  who  has  ridden  all 
the  way  from  Rome  to  meet  so  valorous  a  Paladin. 
They  swear  eternal  friendship.  The  three  henchmen 
of  the  hero  muster  round  the  new  comrades  in  arms ; 
and  the  party  thus  formed  set  forth  upon  a  series  of 
adventures  in  the  style  of  Astolfo's  journey  to  the 
moon. 

This  part  of  the  epic  is  a  close  copy  of  the  chival- 
rous romances  in  their  more  fantastic  details.  The 
journey  of  the  Barons,  as  they  are  now  invariably 
styled,  is  performed  in  a  great  ship.  They  encounter 
storms  and  pirates,  land  on  marvelous  islands,  enter 
fairy  palaces,  and  from  time  to  time  recruit  their  forces 
with  notable  rogues  and  drunkards  whom  they  find 
upon  their  way.  The  parody  consists  in  the  similarity 
of  their  achievements  to  those  of  knight-errantry,  while 
they  are  themselves  in  all  points  unlike  the  champions 
of  chivalry.  One  of  their  most  cherished  companions, 
for  example,  is  Boccalus,  a  .Bergamasque  buffoon,  who 

1  This  episode  of  Cingar's  triumph  over  the  enemies  of  Baldus,  his 
craft,  his  rhetoric,  his  ready  wit,  his  infinite  powers  of  persuasion,  his 
monkey  tricks  and  fox-like  cunning,  is  executed  with  an  energy  of  hu- 
mor and  breadth  of  conception,  that  places  it  upon  a  level  with  the 
choicest  passages  in  Rabelais. 


BURLESQUE    OF  KNIGHT-ERRANTRY.  343 

distinguishes  himself  by  presence  of  mind  in  a  great 
storm l : 

Ille  galantus  homo,  qui  nuper  in  aequora  bruttam 
Jecerat  uxorem,  dicens  non  esse  fagottum 
Fardellumque  homini  plus  laidum,  plusque  pesentum 
Quam  sibi  mojeram  lateri  mirare  tacatam 
Quae  sit  oca  ingenio,  quae  vultu  spazzacaminus. 

The  tale  of  adventures  is  diversified,  after  the  manner 
of  the  romantic  poets,  by  digressions,  sometimes 
pathetic,  sometimes  dissertational.  Among  these  the 
most  amusing  is  Cingar's  lecture  on  astronomy,  in 
which  the  planetary  theories  of  the  middle  ages  are 
burlesqued  with  considerable  irony.2  The  most  af- 
fecting is  the  death  of  Leonardus,  who  chooses  to  be 
torn  in  pieces  by  bears  rather  than  yield  his  virginity 
to  a  vile  woman.  This  episode  suggests  one  of  the 
finest  satiric  passages  in  the  whole  poem.  Having 
exhibited  the  temptress  Muselina,  the  poet  breaks  off 
with  this  exclamation 3 : 

Heu  quantis  noster  Muselinis  orbis  abundat! 

He  then  enumerates  their  arts  of  seduction,  and  winds 
up  with  a  powerful  dramatic  picture,  painted  from  the 
life,  of  a  mezzana  engaged  in  corrupting  a  young  man's 
mind  during  Mass-time : 

Dum  Missas  celebrantur,  amant  cantonibus  esse, 
Postque  tenebrosos  mussant  chiachiarantque  pilastros;    __ 
Ah  miserelle  puer,  dicunt,  male  nate,  quod  ullam 
Non  habes,  ut  juvenes  bisognat  habere,  morosam!  .  .  . 

1  Mac,  xii.  p.  296. 

2  In  the  course  of  this  oration  Folengo  introduces  an  extraordinarily 
venomous  invective  against  contadini,  which  may  be  paralleled  with  his 
allegory  in  the  Orlandino.     It  begins  (Mac.  xiii.  p.  li): 

Progenies  maledicta  quidem  villana  vocatur, 
and  extends  through  forty  lines  of  condensed  abuse. 

3  Mac.  xvi.  p.  66. 


344  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Numquid  vis  fieri  Frater  Monachusve,  remotis 
Delitiis  Veneris,  Bacchi,  Martisque,  Jovisque, 
Quos  vel  simplicitas,  vel  desperatio  traxit  ?  .  .  . 
Nemo  super  terram  sanctus;  stant  aethere  sancti: 
Nos  carnem  natura  facit,  quo  carne  fruamur. 

As  the  epic  approaches  its  conclusion,  Baldus  discovers 
his  true  father,  Guido,  under  the  form  of  a  holy  her- 
mit, and  learns  that  it  is  reserved  for  him  by  destiny, 
first  to  extirpate  the  sect  of  witches  under  their  queen 
Smirna  Gulfora,  and  afterwards  to  penetrate  the  realms 
of  death  and  hell.  The  last  five  books  of  the  Macca- 
ronea  are  devoted  to  these  crowning  exploits.  Merlin 
appears,  and  undertakes  the  guidance  of  the  Barons  on 
their  journey  to  Avernus.1  But  first  he  requires  full 
confession  of  their  sins  from  each ;  and  this  humorous 
act  of  penitence  forms  one  of  the  absurdest  episodes, 
as  may  be  easily  imagined,  in  the  poem.  Absolved 
and  furnished  with  heroic  armor,  the  Barons  march  to 
the  conquest  of  Gulfora  and  the  destruction  of  her 
magic  palace.  Folengo  has  placed  it  appropriately  orr 
the  road  to  hell;  for  under  Gulfora  he  allegorizes 
witchcraft.  The  space  allotted  to  Smirna  Gulfora  and 
the  importance  attached  to  her  overthrow  by  Baldus 
and  his  Barons,  call  attention  to  the  prevalence  of  magic 
in  Italy  at  this  epoch.2  It  may  not,  therefore,  be  out 
of  place,  before  engaging  in  this  portion  of  the  analysis, 

1  Mac.  xx.  p.  152.  From  this  point  onward  the  poet  and  Merlin  are 
one  person: 

Nomine  Merlinos  dicor,  de  sanguine  Mantus, 
Est  mihi  cognomen  Coeajus  Maccaronensis. 

3  The  Novella  of  Luca  Philippus,  who  kept  a  tavern  at  the  door  of 
Paradise,  and  had  no  custom,  since  no  one  came  that  way  so  long  as 
Gulfora  ruled  on  earth,  forms  a  significant  preface  to  her  episode.  See 
Mac.  xxi.  p.  1 80.  The  altercation  between  this  host  and  Peter  at  the 
rusty  gate  of  heaven  is  written  in  the  purest  Italian  style  of  pious  parody. 


ITALIAN    WITCHCRAFT.  345 

to  give  some  account  of  Italian  witchcraft  drawn  from 
other  sources,  in  order  to  estimate  the  truth  of  the  satire 
upon  which  Folengo  expended  his  force. 

"  Beautiful  and  humane  Italy,"  as  Bandello  calls  his 
country  in  the  preface  to  one  of  his  most  horrible  Novelle, 
was,  in  spite  of  her  enlightenment,  but  little  in  advance 
of  Europe  on  the  common  points  of  medieval  super- 
stition. The  teaching  of  the  Church  encouraged  a 
belief  in  demons ;  and  the  common  people  saw  on 
every  chapel  wall  the  fresco  of  some  saint  expelling 
devils  from  the  bodies  of  possessed  persons,  or  exorcis- 
ing domestic  utensils  which  had  been  bewitched.1 
Thus  the  laity  grew  up  in  the  confirmed  opinion  that 
earth,  air,  and  ocean  swarmed  with  supernatural  beings, 
whom  they  distinguished  as  fiends  from  hell  or  inferior 
sprites  of  the  elements,  called  spiriti  folletti?  While 
the  evil  spirits  of  both  degrees  were  supposed  to  lie 
beneath  the  ban  of  ecclesiastical  malediction,  they  lent 
their  aid  to  necromancers,  witches  and  wizards,  who, 
defying  the  interdictions  of  the  Church,  had  the 
audacity  to  use  them  as  their  slaves  by  the  employment 
of  powerful  spells  and  rites  of  conjuration.  There  was 
a  way,  it  was  believed,  of  taming  both  the  demons  and 
the  elves,  of  making  them  the  instruments  of  human 
avarice,  ambition,  jealousy  and  passion.  Since  all 
forms  of  superstition  in  Italy  lent  themselves  to  utilita- 
rian purposes,  the  necromancer  and  the  witch,  having 
acquired  this  power  over  supernatural  agents,  became 
the  servants  of  popular  lusts.  They  sold  their  authority 

1  Aretino's  Cortigiana  contains  a  very  humorous  exorcism  inflicted 
by  way  of  a  practical  joke  upon  a  fisherman. 

2  See  above,  Part  i.  p.  453,  note  2,  for  the  distinction  between  the 
fiends  and  the  sprites  drawn  by  Pulci. 


346  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

to  the  highest  bidders,  undertaking  to  blast  the  vines  or 
to  poison  the  flocks  of  an  enemy ;  to  force  young  men 
and  maidens  to  become  the  victims  of  inordinate  appe- 
tites ;  to  ruin  inconvenient  husbands  by  slowly-wasting 
diseases ;  to  procure  abortion  by  spells  and  potions ;  to 
confer  wealth  and  power  upon  aspirants  after  luxury; 
to  sow  the  seeds  of  discord  in  families — in  a  word,  to 
open  a  free  path  for  the  indulgence  of  the  vain  desires 
that  plague  ill-regulated  egotisms.  A  class  of  impostors, 
half  dupes  of  their  own  pretensions,  half  rogues  relying 
on  the  folly  of  their  employers,  sprang  into  existence, 
who  combined  the  Locusta  of  ancient  Rome  with  the 
witch  of  medieval  Germany.  Such  was  the  Italian 
strega — a  loathsome  creature,  who  studied  the  chemistry 
of  poisons,  philtres,  and  abortion-hastening  drugs,  and 
while  she  pretended  to  work  her  miracles  by  the  help 
of  devils,  played  upon  the  common  passions  and 
credulities  of  human  kind.1  By  her  side  stood  her 
masculine  counterpart,  the  stregone,  negromantc  or  alchi- 
mista,  who  plays  so  prominent  a  part  in  the  Italian 
comedies  and  novels. 

Witchcraft  was  localized  in  two  chief  centers — the 
mountains  of  Norcia,  and  the  Lombard  valleys  of  the 
Alps.2  In  the  former  we  find  a  remnant  of  antique 
superstition.  The  witches  of  this  district,  whether 
male  or  female,  had  something  of  the  classical  Sibyl  in 

1  See  Lasca's  Novella  of  Zoroastro;  Bandello's  novels  of  witchcraft 
(Part  iii.  29  and  52);  Cellini's  celebrated  conjuration  in  the  Coliseum; 
and  Ariosto's  comedy  of  the  Negromante.  These  sources  may  be 
illustrated  from  the  evidence  given  by  Virginia  Maria  Lezia  before  her 
judges,  and  the  trial  of  witches  at  Nogaredo,  both  of  which  are  printed 
in  Dandolo's  Signora  di  Monza  (Milano,  1855).  Compare  the  curious 
details  about  Lombard  witchcraft  in  Canto's  Diocesi  di  Como. 

*  It  may  be  remembered  that  the  necromancer  in  Cellini  sent  his 


NORCIA    AND    VAL    CAMONICA. 


347 


their  composition  and  played  upon  the  terrors  of  their 
clients.  Like  their  Roman  predecessors,  they  plied 
the  trades  of  poisoner,  quack-doctor  and  bawd.  In 
Lombardy  witchcraft  assumed  a  more  Teutonic  com- 
plexion. The  witch  was  less  the  instrument  of  fashion- 
able vices,  trading  in  them  as  a  lucrative  branch  of 
industry,  than  the  hysterical  subject  of  a  spiritual  dis- 
ease. Lust  itself  inflamed  the  victims  of  this  super- 
stition, who  were  burned  by  hundreds  in  the  towns,  and 
who  were  supposed  to  hold  their  revels  in  the  villages 
of  Val  Camonica.  Like  the  hags  of  northern  Europe, 
these  Lombard  streghe  had  recourse  to  the  black  art  in 
the  delirious  hope  of  satisfying  their  own  inordinate 
ambitions,  their  own  indescribable  desires.  The  dis- 
ease spread  so  wildly  at  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury that  Innocent  VIII.,  by  his  Bull  of  1484,  issued 
special  injunctions  to  the  Dominican  monks  of  Brescia, 
Bergamo  and  Cremona,  authorizing  them  to  stamp  it 
out  with  fire  and  torture.1  The  result  was  a  crusade 
against  witchcraft,  which  seems  to  have  increased  the 
evil  by  fascinating  the  imagination  of  the  people. 
They  believed  all  the  more  blindly  in  the  supernatural 
powers  to  be  obtained  by  magic  arts,  inasmuch  as  this 

book  to  be  enchanted  in  the  Apennines  of  Norcia.  Folengo  alludes  to 
this  superstition: 

Qualiter  ad  stagnum  Nursae  sacrare  quadernos. 

With  regard  to  Val  Camonica,  see  the  actual  state  of  that  district  as 
reported  by  Cantu.  Folengo  in  the  Orlandino  mentions  its  witches. 
Bandello  (iii.  52)  speaks  of  it  thus:  "  Val  Camonica,  ove  si  dice  essere 
di  molte  streghe." 

i  Witchcraft  in  Italy  grew  the  more  formidable  the  closer  it  ap- 
proached the  German  frontier.  It  seems  to  have  assumed  the  features 
of  an  epidemic  at  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century.  Up  to  that  date 
little  is  heard  of  it,  and  little  heed  was  paid  to  it.  The  exacerbation  of 
the  malady  portended  and  accompanied  the  dissolution  of  medieval  be- 


348  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

traffic  had  become  the  object  of  a  bloody  persecution. 
When  the  Church  recognized  that  men  and  women 
.might  command  the  fiends  of  hell,  it  followed  as  a 
logical  consequence  that  wretches,  maddened  by  misery 
and  intoxicated  with  ungovernable  lusts,  were  tempted 
to  tamper  with  the  forbidden  thing  at  the  risk  of  life 
and  honor  in  this  world  and  with  the  certainty  of 
damnation  in  the  other.  After  this  fashion  the  con- 
fused conscience  of  illiterate  people  bred  a  formidable 
extension  of  this  spiritual  malady  throughout  the  north- 
ern provinces  of  Italy.  Some  were  led  by  morbid 
curiosity;  others  by  a  vain  desire  to  satisfy  their  ap- 
petites, or  to  escape  the  consequences  of  their  crimes. 
A  more  dangerous  class  used  the  superstition  to  ac- 
quire power  over  their  neighbors  and  to  make  money 
out  of  popular  credulity. 

Born  and  bred  in  Lombardy  at  the  epoch  when 
witchcraft  had  attained  the  height  of  popular  insanity, 
Folengo  was  keenly  alive  to  the  hideousness  of  a 
superstition  which,  rightly  or  wrongly,  he  regarded  as 
a  widespread  plague  embracing  all  classes  of  society. 
It  may  be  questioned  whether  he  did  not  exaggerate  its 
importance.  But  there  is  no  mistaking  the  verisimili- 
tude of  the  picture  he  drew.  All  the  uncleanliness  of  a 
diseased  imagination,  all  the  extravagances  of  wanton 
desire,  all  the  consequences  of  domestic  unchastity — 
incest,  infanticide,  secret  assassination,  concealment  of 
births — are  traced  to  this  one  cause  and  identified  by 
him  with  witchcraft.  The  palace  of  the  queen  Gulfora 
is  a  pandemonium  of  lawless  vice: 

liefs  in  a  population  vexed  by  war,  famine  and  pestilence,  and  vitiated 
by  ecclesiastical  corruption. 


SMIRNA    GULFORA^S    COURT.  349 

Quales  hie  reperit  strepitus,  qualemque  tumultum, 
Quales  mollities  turpes,  actusque  salaces, 
Utile  nil  scribi  posset,  si  scribere  vellem. 

Her  courts  are  crowded  with  devils  who  have  taken 
human  shape  to  gratify  the  lusts  of  her  votaries: 

Leggiadros  juvenes,  bellos,  facieque  venustos, 
Stringatos,  agiles,  quos  judicat  esse  diablos, 
Humanum  piliasse  caput  moresque  decentes, 
Conspicit,  innumeras  circum  scherzare  puellas, 
Quae  gestant  vestes  auri  brettasque  veluti. 

The  multitude  is  made  up  of  all  nations,  sexes,  ages, 
classes: 

Obstupet  innumeros  illic  retrovare  striones, 
Innumerasque  strias  vecchias,  modicasque  puellas. 
Non  ea  medesimo  generatur  schiatta  paeso; 
At  sunt  Italici,  Graeci,  Gallique,  Spagnoles, 
Magnates,  poveri,  laici,  fratresque,  pretesque, 
Matronae,  monighae  per  forzam  claustra  colentes. 

Some  of  them  are  engaged  in  preparing  love-potions 
and  poisonous  draughts  from  the  most  disgusting  and 
noxious  ingredients.  Others  compound  unguents  to  be 
used  in  the  metamorphosis  of  themselves  on  their 
nocturnal  jaunts.  Among  these  are  found  poets, 
orators,  physicians,  lawyers,  governors,  for  whose  sins 
a  handful  of  poor  old  women  play  the  part  of  scape- 
goats before  the  public: 

Sed  quia  respectu  legis  praevertitur  ordo, 
Namque  solent  grossi  pisces  mangiare  minutos, 
Desventuratae  qusedam  solummodo  vecchiae 
Sunt  quae  supra  asinos  plebi  spectacula  fiunt, 
Sunt  quag  primatum  multorum  crimina  celant, 
Sunt  quag  sparagnant  madonnis  pluribus  ignem. 

Some  again  are  discovered  compiling  books  of  spells: 

Quomodo  adulterium  uxoris  vir  noscere  possit, 
Quomodo  virgineae  cogantur  amare  puellas, 
Quomodo  non  tumeat  mulier  cornando  maritum, 


350  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Quomodo  si  tumult  fantinum  mingat  abortum, 
Quomodo  vix  natos  vitient  sua  fascina  puttos, 
Quomodo  desiccent  odiati  membra  mariti. 

The  elder  witches  keep  a  school  for  the  younger,  and 
instruct  them  in  the  secrets  of  their  craft.  Among  these 
Baldus  recognizes  his  own  wife,  together  with  the 
principal  ladies  of  his  native  land. 

It  is  clear  that  under  the  allegory  of  witchcraft,  in 
which  at  the  same  time  he  seems  to  have  believed 
firmly,  Folengo  meant  to  satirize  the  secret  corruption 
of  society.  When  Gulfora  herself  appears,  she  holds 
her  court  like  an  Italian  duchess: 

Longa  sequit  series  hominum  muschiata  zibettis, 
Qui  cortesanos  se  vantant  esse  tilatos, 
Quorum  si  videas  mores  rationis  ochialo, 
Non  homines  maschios  sed  dicas  esse  bagassas. 

The  terrible  friar  then  breaks  into  a  tirade  against  the 
courtiers  of  his  day,  comparing  them  with  Arthur's 
knights: 

Tempore  sed  nostro,  proh  dii,  saecloque  dadessum, 
Non  nisi  perfumis  variis  et  odore  vibetti, 
Non  nisi,  seu  sazarae  petenentur  sive  tosentur, 
Brettis  velluti,  nee  non  scufiotibus  auri, 
Auri  cordiculis,  impresis,  atque  medallis, 
Millibus  et  frappis  per  calzas  perque  giupones, 
Cercamus  carum  merdosi  germen  amoris. 

Baldus  exterminates  the  whole  vile  multitude,  while 
Fracassus  pulls  Gulfora's  palace  about  her  ears.  After 
this,  the  Barons  pursue  their  way  to  Acheron,  and  call 
upon  Charon  to  ferry  them  across.  He  refuses  to  take 
so  burdensome  a  party  into  his  boat;  but  by  the 
strength  of  Fracassus  and  the  craft  of  Cingar  they 
effect  a  passage.  Their  entry  into  hell  furnishes 
Folengo  with  opportunities  for  new  tirades  against  the 


ENTRY  INTO  HELL.  35 x 

vices  of  Italy.  Tisiphone  boasts  how  Rome,  through 
her  machinations,  has  kept  Christendom  in  discord. 
Alecto  exults  in  her  offspring,  the  Guelph  and  Ghibel- 
line  factions : 

Unde  fides  Christi  paulatim  lapsa  ruinet, 
Dum  gentes  Italae  bastantes  vincere  mundum 
Se  se  in  se  stessos  discordant,  seque  medesmos 
Vassallos  faciunt,  servos,  vilesque  famejos 
His  qui  vassalli,  servi,  vilesque  fa  meji 
Tempore  passato  nobis  per  forza  fu  ere. 

After  passing  the  Furies,  and  entering  the  very 
jaws  of  Hades,  Baldus  encounters  the  fantasies  of 
grammarians  and  humanists,  the  idle  nonsense  of  the 
schoolmen,  all  the  lumber  of  medieval  philosophy 
mixed  with  the  trifles  of  the  Renaissance.1  He  fights 
his  way  through  the  thick-crowding  swarm  of  follies, 
and  reaches  the  hell  of  lovers,  where  a  mountebank 
starts  forward  and  offers  to  be  his  guide.  Led  by  this 
zany,  the  hero  and  his  comrades  enter  an  enormous 
gourd,  the  bulk  of  which  is  compared  to  the  mountains 
of  Val  Camonica.  Within  its  spacious  caverns  dwell 
the  sages  of  antiquity,  with  astrologers,  physicians, 
wizards,  and  false  poets.  But,  having  brought  his 
Barons  to  this  place,  Merlinus  Cocajus  can  advance 

1  Hie  sunt  Grammatical  populi,  gentesque  reductae, 
Hue,  illuc,  istuc,  reliqua  seguitante  fameja: 
Argumenta  volant  dialectica,  mille  sophistae 
Adsunt  bajanae,  pro,  contra,  non,  ita,  lyque: 
Adsunt  Errores,  adsunt  mendacia,  bollae, 
Atque  solecismi,  fallacia,  fictio  vatum  ...     . 
Omnes  altandem  tanto  rumore  volutant 
Ethicen  et  Physicen,  Animam,  centumque  novellas, 
Ut  sibi  stornito  Baldus  stopparet  orecchias. 
Squarnazzam  Scoti  Fracassus  repperit  illic, 
Quam  vestit,  gabbatque  Deum,  pugnatque  Thomistas. 
Alberti  magni  Lironus  somnia  zaffat. 


352  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

no  further.  He  is  destined  to  inhabit  the  great  gourd 
himself.  Beyond  it  he  has  no  knowledge;  and  here, 
therefore,  he  leaves  the  figments  of  his  fancy  without 
a  word  of  farewell : 

Nee  Merlinus  ego,  laus,  gloria,  fama  Cipadae, 
Quamvis  fautrices  habui  Tognamque  Gosamque, 
Quamvis  implevi  totum  macaronibus  orbem, 
Quamvis  promerui  Baldi  cantare  batajas, 
Non  tamen  hanc  zuccam  potui  schifare  decentem, 
In  qua  me  tantos  opus  est  nunc  perdere  denies, 
Tot,  quot  in  immenso  posui  mendacia  libro. 

With  this  grotesque  invention  of  the  infernal  pumpkin, 
where  lying  bards  are  punished  by  the  extraction  of 
teeth  which  never  cease  to  grow  again,  Folengo  breaks 
abruptly  off.  His  epic  ends  with  a  Rabelaisian  peal 
of  laughter,  in  which  we  can  detect  a  growl  of  dis- 
content and  anger. 

Laying  the  book  down,  we  ask  ourselves  whether 
the  author  had  a  serious  object,  or  whether  he  meant 
merely  to  indulge  a  vein  of  wayward  drollery.  The 
virulent  invectives  which  abound  in  the  Maccaronea, 
seem  to  warrant  the  former  conclusion ;  nor  might  it 
be  wholly  impossible  to  regard  the  poem  as  an  allegory, 
in  which  Baldus  should  play  the  part  of  the  reason, 
unconscious  at  first  of  its  noble  origin,  consorting  with 
the  passions  and  the  senses,  but  finally  arriving  at  the 
knowledge  of  its  high  destiny  and  defeating  the  powers 
of  evil.1  Yet  when  we  attempt  to  press  this  theory 
and  to  explain  the  allegory  in  detail,  the  thread  snaps 
in  our  hands.  Like  the"  romances  of  chivalry  which 

1  This  hypothesis  receives  support  from  the  passage  in  which  Baldus 
compares  his  new  love  for  Crispis,  the  paragon  of  all  virtues,  with  his 
old  infatuation  for  Berta,  who  is  the  personification  of  vulgar  appetite, 
unrefined  natural  instinct.  See  the  end  of  Book  xxiii. 


FOLENGO'S   SERIOUS  INTENTION. 


353 


it  parodies,  the  Maccaronea  is  a  bizarre  mixture  of 
heterogeneous  elements,  loosely  put  together  to  amuse 
an  idle  public  and  excite  curiosity.  If  its  author  has 
used  it  also  as  the  vehicle  for  satire  which  embraces  all 
the  popular  superstitions,  vices  and  hypocrisies  of  his 
century ;  if,  as  he  approaches  the  conclusion,  he 
assumes  a  tone  of  sarcasm  more  sinister  than  befits 
the  broad  burlesque  of  the  commencement;  we  must 
rest  contented  with  the  assumption  that  his  choleric 
humor  led  him  from  the  path  of  comedy,  while  the 
fury  of  a  soul  divided  against  itself  inspired  his  muses 
of  the  cook-shop  with  loftier  strains  than  they  had 
promised  at  the  outset.1  Should  students  in  the  future 
devote  the  same  minute  attention  to  Folengo  that  has 
been  paid  to  Rabelais,  it  is  not  improbable  that  the 
question  here  raised  may  receive  solution.  The  poet 
is  not  unworthy  of  such  pains.  Regarded  merely 
as  the  precursor  of  Rabelais,  Folengo  deserves  careful 
perusal.  He  was  the  creator  of  a  style,  which,  when 
we  read  his  epic,  forces  us  to  think  of  the  seventeenth 
century;  so  strongly  did  it  influence  the  form  of 
humorous  burlesque  in  Europe  for  at  least  two 
hundred  years.  On  this  account,  the  historian  of 
modern  literature  cannot  afford  to  neglect  him.  For 
the  student  of  Italian  manners  in  Lombardy  during  the 

i  The  rage  of  a  man  who  knows  that  he  has  chosen  the  lower  while 
he  might  have  trodden  the  higher  paths  of  life  and  art,  flames  out  at  in- 
tervals through  this  burlesque.  Take  this  example,  the  last  five  lines 
of  Book  xxiii.: 

Sic  ego  Macronicum  penitus  volo  linquere  carmen 
Cum  mihi  tempus  erit,  quod  erit,  si  celsa  voluntas 
Flectitur  et  nostris  lachrymis  et  supplice  voto. 
Heu  heu!  quod  volui  misero  mihi  ?  floribus  Austrum 
Perditus  et  liquidis  immisi  fontibus  aprum. 


354  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

height  of  the  Renaissance,  the  huge  amorphous  un- 
digested mass  of  the  Maccaronea  is  one  of  the  most 
valuable  and  instructive  documents  that  we  possess. 
I  do  not  hesitate,  from  this  point  of  view,  to  rank  it 
with  the  masterpieces  of  the  age,  with  the  Orlando  of 
Ariosto,  with  Machiavelli's  comedies,  and  with  the 
novels  of  Bandello. 

Folengo  used  the  maccaronic  style  in  two  other 
considerable  compositions.  The  one  entitled  Moscheis 
is  an  elegant  parody  of  the  Batrachomyomachia,  relat- 
ing the  wars  of  ants  and  flies  in  elegiac  verse.  The 
other,  called  Zanitonella,  celebrates  the  rustic  loves  of 
Zanina  and  Tonello  in  a  long  series  of  elegies,  odes 
and  eclogues.  This  collection  furnishes  a  complete 
epitome  of  parodies  modeled  on  the  pastorals  in  vogue. 
The  hero  appears  upon  the  scene  in  the  following 
Sonolegia,  under  which  title  we  detect  a  blending  of 
the  Sonnet  and  the  Elegy * : 

Solus  solettus  stabam  colegatus  in  umbra, 

Pascebamque  meas  virda  per  arva  capras. 
Nulla  travajabant  animum  pensiria  nostrum, 

Cercabam  quoniam  tempus  habere  bonum. 
Quando  bolzoniger  puer,  o  mea  corda  forasti; 

Nee  dedit  in  fallum  dardus  alhora  tuus. 
Immo  fracassasti  rationis  vincula,  quae  tune 

Circa  coradam  bastio  fortis  erat. 

The  lament  is  spun  out  to  the  orthodox  length  of 
fourteen  verses,  and  concludes  with  a  pretty  point 
Who  the  bolzoniger  puer  was,  is  more  openly  revealed 
in  another  Sonolegia2:  . 

Nemo  super  terram  mangiat  mihi  credite  panem 

Seu  contadinus,  seu  citadinus  erit, 
Quern  non  attrapolet  Veneris  bastardulus  iste, 

Qui  volat  instar  avis,  caecus,  et  absque  braga. 

1  Zanitonella,  p.  3.     *  Ibid.  p.  2.    Compare  Sonolegia  xiii.  ib.  p.  40. 


PASTORAL   BURLESQUE;    CAPITOLL  355 

To  follow  the  poet  through  all  his  burlesques  of 
Petrarchistic  and  elegiac  literature,  Italian  or  Latin, 
would  be  superfluous.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  he 
leaves  none  of  their  accustomed  themes  untouched 
with  parody.  The  masterpiece  of  his  art  in  this  style 
is  the  sixth  Eclogue,  consisting  of  a  dialogue  between 
two  drunken  bumpkins — interloquutores  Tonellus  et 
Pedralus,  qui  ambo  inebriantur.1 

The  maccaronic  style  was  a  product  of  North  Italy, 
cultivated  by  writers  of  the  Lombard  towns,  who 
versified  comic  or  satiric  subjects  in  parodies  of  human- 
istic poetry.  The  branch  of  burlesque  literature  we 
have  next  to  examine,  belonged  to  Tuscany,  and  took 
its  origin  from  the  equivocal  carnival  and  dance  songs 
raised  to  the  dignity  of  art  by  Lorenzo  de'  Medici. 
Its  conventional  meter  was  terza  rima,  handled  with 
exquisite  sense  of  rhythm,  but  degraded  to  low  comedy 
by  the  treatment  of  trivial  or  vulgar  motives.  The 
author  of  these  Capitoli,  as  they  were  called,  chose 
some  common  object — a  paint-brush,  salad,  a  sausage, 
peaches,  figs,  eels,  radishes — to  celebrate;  affected  to 
be  inspired  by  the  grandeur  of  his  subject ;  developed 
the  drollest  tropes,  metaphors  and  illustrations;  and 
almost  invariably  conveyed  an  obscene  meaning  under 
the  form  of  innuendoes  appropriate  to  his  professed 
theme.  Though  some  exceptions  can  be  pointed  out, 
the  Capitoli  in  general  may  be  regarded  as  a  species  of 
Priapic  literature,  fashioned  to  suit  the  taste  of 
Florentines,  who  had  been  accustomed  for  many 
generations  to  semi-disguised  obscenity  in  their  ver- 

i  Op.  cit.  p.  42. 


356  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

nacular  town  poetry.1  Taken  from  the  streets  and 
squares,  adopted  by  the  fashionable  rhymsters  of 
academies  and  courtly  coteries,  the  rude  Fescennine 
verse  lost  none  of  its  license,  while  it  assumed  the 
polish  of  urbane  art.  Were  it  not  for  this  antiquity 
and  popularity  of  origin,  which  suggests  a  plausible 
excuse  for  the  learned  writers  of  Capitoli  and  warns  us 
to  regard  their  indecency  as  in  some  measure  conven- 
tional, it  would  be  difficult  to  approach  the  three 
volumes  which  contain  a  selection  of  their  poems, 
without  horror.2  So  deep,  universal,  unblushing  is 
the  vice  revealed  in  them. 

To  Francesco  Berni  belongs  the  merit,  such  as  it 
is,  of  having  invented  the  burlesque  Capitoli.  He 
gave  his  name  to  it,  and  the  term  Bernesque  has 
passed  into  the  critical  phraseology  of  Europe.  The 
unique  place  of  this  rare  poet  in  the  history  of  Italian 
literature,  will  justify  a  somewhat  lengthy  account  of 
his  life  and  works.  Studying  him,  we  study  the  eccle- 
siastical and  literary  society  of  Rome  in  the  age  of 
Leo  X.  and  Clement  VII. 

Francesco  Berni  was  born  at  Lamporecchio,  in  the 

1  We  may  ascend  to  the  very  sources  of  popular  Tuscan  poetry,  and 
we  shall  find  this  literature  of  double  entendre  in  the  Canzoni  of  the 
Nicchio  and  Ugellino,  noticed  above,  Part  i.  p.  38.     Besides  the  Can  ft 
Carnascialeschi  edited  by  II  Lasca,  we  have  a  collection  of  Canzoni  a 
JBallo,  printed  at  Florence  in  1569,  which  proves  that  the  raw  material 
of  the  Capitoli  lay  ready  to  the  hand  of  the  burlesque  poets  in  plebeian 
literature. 

2  My  references  are  made  to  Ofere  Buries che,  3  vols.,  1723,  with  the 
names  of  Londra  and  Firenze.     Gregorovius  says  of  them:  "Wenn  man 
diese  '  scherzenden '  Gedichte  liest,  muss  man  entweder  iiber  die  Nichtig- 
keit  ihrer  Gegenstande  staunen,  oder  vor  dem  Abgrund  der  Unsittlich- 
keit  erschrecken,  den  sie  frech  entschleiern."     Stadt  Rom.  vol.  viii.  n. 
345- 


XERNI'S   LIFE.  357 

Val  di  Nievole,  about  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century.1 
His  parents  were  poor;  but  they  were  connected  with 
the  family  of  the  Cardinal  Bibbiena,  who,  after  the 
boy's  education  at  Florence,  took  him  at  the  age  of 
nineteen  to  Rome.  Upon  the  death  of  this  patron  in 
1 5  20,  Berni  remained  in  the  service  of  Bibbiena's 
nephew,  Agnolo  Dovizio.  Receiving  no  advancement 
from  these  kinsmen,  he  next  transferred  himself,  in  the 
quality  of  secretary,  to  the  household  of  Giammatteo 
Giberti,  Bishop  of  Verona,  who  was  a  distinguished 
Mecsenas  of  literary  men.  This  change  involved  his 
taking  orders.  Berni  now  resided  partly  at  Rome  and 
partly  at  Verona,  tempering  the  irksome  duties  of  his 
office  by  the  writing  of  humorous  poetry,  which  he 
recited  in  the  then  celebrated  Academy  of  the  Vignaj- 
uoli.  This  society,  which  numbered  Molza,  Mauro, 
La  Casa,  Lelio  Capilupi,  Firenzuola,  and  Francesco 
Bini  among  its  members,  gave  the  tone  to  polite  litera- 
ture at  the  Courts  of  Leo  and  Clement. 

Berni  survived  the  sack  of  1627,  which  proved  so 
disastrous  to  Italian  scholars;  but  he  lost  everything 
he  possessed.2  Monsignor  Giberti  employed  him  on 
various  missions  of  minor  importance,  involving  journeys 
to  Venice,  Padua,  Nice,  Florence,  and  the  Abruzzi. 
After  sixteen  years  of  Court-life,  Berni  grew  weary  of 
the  petty  duties,  which  must  have  been  peculiarly 
odious  to  a  man  of  his  lazy  temperament,  if  it  is  true, 
as  he  informs  us,  that  the  Archbishop  kept  him  dancing 

1  The  probable  date  is  1496. 

2  Or  1.  Inn.  Rifatto  da  Fr.  Berni,  i.  14,  23-28,  makes  it  clear  that 
Berni  was  an  eye-witness  of  the  Sack  of  Rome.     Panizzi's  reference  to 
this  passage  (Boiardo  ed  Ariosto,  London,  1830,  vol.  ii.  p.  cxi.)  involves 
what  seems  to  me  a  confusion. 


358  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

attendance  till  daylight,  while  he  played  primiera 
with  his  friends.  Accordingly,  he  retired  to  Florence, 
where  he  held  a  canonry  m  the  cathedral.  There,  after 
a  quiet  life  of  literary  ease,  he  died  suddenly  in  1635. 
It  was  rumored  that  he  had  been  poisoned:  and  the 
most  recent  investigations  into  the  circumstances  of 
his  death  tend  rather  to  confirm  this  report.  All  that 
is  known,  however,  for  certain,  is  that  he  spent  the 
evening  of  May  25  with  his  friends  the  Marchionesse 
di  Massa  in  the  Palazzo  Pazzi,  and  that  next  morning 
he  breathed  his  last.  His  mysterious  and  unexplained 
decease  was  ascribed  to  one  of  the  two  Medicean 
princes  then  resident  in  Florence.  A  sonnet  in  Berni's 
best  style,  containing  a  vehement  invective  against 
Alessandro  de'  Medici,  is  extant.  The  hatred  expressed 
in  this  poem  may  have  occasioned  the  rumor  (which 
certainly  acquired  a  certain  degree  of  currency)  that 
Cardinal  Ippolito  de'  Medici  attempted  to  use  the  poet 
for  the  secret  poisoning  of  his  cousin,  and  on  his  refusal 
had  him  murdered.  Other  accounts  of  the  supposed 
assassination  ascribe  a  like  intention  to  the  Duke,  who 
is  said  to  have  suggested  the  poisoning  of  the  Cardinal 
to  Berni.  Both  stories  agree  in  representing  his  tragic 
end  as  the  price  paid  for  refusal  to  play  the  part  of  an 
assassin.  The  matter  remains  obscure;  but  enough 
suspicion  rests  upon  the  manner  of  his  death  to  render 
this  characteristic  double  legend  plausible;  especially 
when  we  remember  what  the  customs  of  Florence  with 
respect  to  poisoning  were,  and  how  the  Cardinal  de' 
Medici  ended  his  own  life.1 

>  The  matter  is  fully  discussed  by  Mazzuchelli  in  his  biography  of 
Berni.     He,  relying  on  the  hypothesis  of  Berni  having  lived  till  1536,  if 


BERNI'S   DEATH  AND    CHARACTER. 


359 


Such'  is  the  uneventful  record  of  Berni's  career. 
He  was  distinguished  among  4all  the  poets  of  the  cen- 
tury for  his  genial  vein  of  humor  and  amiable  personal 
qualities.  That  he  was  known  to  be  stained  with  vices 
which  it  is  not  easy  to  describe,  but  which  he  frankly 
acknowledged  in  his  poetical  epistles,  did  not  injure  his 
reputation  in  that  age  of  mutual  indulgence.1  Willing 
to  live  and  let  live,  with  a  never-failing  fund  of  drollery, 
and  with  a  sincere  dislike  for  work  of  any  sort,  he 
lounged  through  existence,  an  agreeable,  genial  and 
witty  member  of  society.  If  this  were  all  we  should 
not  need  to  write  about  him  now.  But  with  this  easy- 
going temperament  he  combined  a  genius  for  poetry 
so  peculiar  and  delicate,  that  his  few  works  mark  an 
epoch  in  Italian  literature. 

The  best  description  of  Berni  is  contained  in  the 
burlesque  portrait  of  himself,  which  forms  part  of  his 
Boiardo  Innamorato?  This  has  been  so  well  trans- 
lated by  an  English  scholar,  the  late  W.  S.  Rose,  that 
I  cannot  do  better  than  refer  the  student  to  his  stanzas. 
They  convey  as  accurate  a  notion  of  the  Bernesque 
manner  as  can  be  derived  from  any  version  in  a  foreign 

not  till  1543,  points  out  the  impossibility  of  his  having  been  murdered 
by  the  Cardinal,  who  died  himself  in  July,  1535.  This  difficulty  has  re- 
cently been  removed  by  Signer  Antonio  Virgili's  demonstration  of  the 
real  date  of  Berni's  death  in  May,  1535.  See  Rassegna  Settimanale, 
February  23,  1879,  a  PaPer  of  great  importance  for  students  of  Berni's 
life  and  works,  to  which  I  shall  frequently  refer. 

i  It  is  enough  to  mention  the  Capitoli  "  Delle  Pesche,"  "  A.  M.  An- 
tonio da  Bibbiena,"  "Sopra  un  Garzone,"  "Lamentazion  d'  Amore." 
References  are  made  to  the  Rime  e  Lettere  di  Fr.  Berni,  Firenze,  Bar- 
bera,  1865.  For  the  Rifacimento  of  the  Orlando  Innamorato  I  shall 
use  the  Milan  reprint  in  5  vols.,  1806,  which  also  contains  the  Rime. 

*  Book  III.  canto  vii.  (canto  67  of  the  Rifacimento,  vol.  iv.  p.  266). 


360  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

language.1  The  character  he  there  has  given  to  him- 
self for  laziness  is  corroborated  by  his  extant  epis- 
tles in  prose.  Berni  represents  himsef  as  an  incur- 
ably bad  correspondent,  pleased  to  get  letters,  but 
overcome  with  mortal  terror  when  he  is  obliged  to 
answer  them.2  He  confides  to  his  friend  Francesco 
Bini  that  the  great  affair  in  life  is  to  be  gay  and  to 
write  as  little  as  possible3:  "A  vivere  avemo  sino 
alia  morte  a  dispetto  di  chi  non  vuole,  e  il  vantaggio  e 
vivere  allegramente,  come  conforto  a  far  vio,  attendando 
a  frequentar  quelli  banchetti  che  si  fanno  per  Roma,  e 
scrivendo  sopra  tutto  manco  che  potete.  Quia  h<zc  est 
victoria,  qua  vincit  mundum"  The  curse  has  been 
laid  upon  him  of  having  to  drive  his  quill  without  ceas- 
ing4: "O  ego  lavus,  che  scrivo  d'  ogni  tempo,  e  scrivo 
ora  che  ho  una  gamba  al  collo,  che  ieri  tornando  dalla 
Certosa  mi  ruppe  la  mia  cavalla,  cascandomivi  sopra. 
Sono  pure  un  gran  coglione ! "  So  his  pen  runs  on. 
The  man  writes  just  as  he  spoke,  without  affectation, 
mixing  his  phrases  of  Latin  with  the  idiom  of  common 
life.  The  whole  presents  an  agreeable  contrast  to  the 
stilted  style  of  Bembo,  La  Casa's  studied  periods,  and 
the  ambitious  epistolary  efforts  of  Aretino.  Sometimes 
he  breaks  into  doggrel5:  "  S'io  avessi  1'  ingenio  del 
Burchiello,  lo  vi  farei  volentier  un  sonetto,  Che  non 
ebbi  giammai  tema  e  subietto,  Piu  dolce,  piu  piacevol, 
ne  piu  bello."  When  his  friends  insist  upon  his  writing 

;  This  translation  will  be  found*  in  Panizzi's  edition  of  the  Orlando 
Innamorato  (London,  Pickering,  1830),  vol.  ii.  p.  cxiv. 

*  Letter  vi.  to  Messer  Giamb.  Montebuona. 

3  Letter  xvii. 

4  Letter  xxiv. 

•  Letter  to  Ippolito  de'  Medici  (ed.  Milan,  vol.  v.  p.  227). 


BERNI'S   CORRESPONDENCE.  361 

to  them,  rhyme  comes  to  his  aid,  and  he  affects  a 
comic  fit  of  rage l : 

Perche  m'  ammazzi  con  le  tue  querele, 

Priuli  mio,  perche  ti  duole  a  torto, 

Che  sai  che  t'  amo  piti  che  1'  orso  il  miele,  etc. 

Importuned  to  publish  the  poems  he  recited  with 
so  much  effect  in  private  circles,  he  at  last  consents 
because  he  cannot  help  it2 :  "Compare,  io  non  ho  potuto 
tanto  schermirmi  che  pure  m'  4  bisognato  dar  fuori 
questo  benedetto  Capitolo  e  Comento  della  Primiera; 
e  siate  certo  che  1'  ho  fatto,  non  perche  mi  consumassi 
d'  andare  in  stampa,  ne  per  immortalarmi  come  il  cava- 
lier Casio,  ma  per  fuggire  la  fatica  mia,  e  la  malevol- 
enza  di  molti  che  domandandomelo  e  non  lo  avendo 
mi  volevano  mal  di  morte."  Nor  were  these  the  ordi- 
nary excuses  of  an  author  eager  to  conceal  his  vanity. 
The  Capitolo  upon  the  game  of  primiera  was  the  only 
poem  which  appeared  with  his  consent.3  He  intended 
his  burlesque  verses  for  recitation,  and  is  even  said  to 
have  preserved  no  copies  of  them,  so  that  many  of 
his  compositions,  piratically  published  in  his  lifetime, 
were  with  difficulty  restored  to  a  right  text  •  by  II 
Lasca  in  i5^8.  This  indifference  to  public  fame  did 
not  imply  any  carelessness  of  style.  Mazzuchelli,  who 
had  seen  some  of  his  rough  copies,  asserts  that  they 
bore  signs  of  the  minutest  pains  bestowed  upon  them. 
The  melody  of  versification,  richness  of  allusion,  re- 
finement of  phrase,  equality  and  flowing  smoothness, 

1  Letter  ix. 

2  Letter  vii.     Compare  the  sonnet  "In  nome  di  M.  Prinzivalle  da 
Pontremoli "  (ed.  Milan,  vol.  v.  p.  3). 

a  It  was  published  at  Rome  by  Calvo  in  1526,  with  the  comment  ot 
M.  Pietro  Paolo  da  S.  Chirico. 


362  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

which  distinguish  Berni's  work  from  that  of  his  imita- 
tors confirm  the  belief  that  his  Capitoli  and  sonnets, 
in  spite  of  their  apparent  ease,  were  produced  with  the 
conscientious  industry  of  a  real  artist. 

Berni's  theory  of  poetry  revealed  a  common-sense 
and  insight  which  were  no  less  rare  than  commendable 
in  that  age  of  artificial  literature.  He  refused  to  write 
at  command,  pleading  that  spontaneity  of  inspiration 
is  essential  to  art,  and  quoting  Vida's  dictum: 

Nee  jussa  canas,  nisi  forte  coactus 
Magnorum  imperio  regum. 

Notwithstanding  his  avoidance  of  publication  and 
parsimony  of  production,  Berni  won  an  almost  unique 
reputation  during  his  lifetime,  and  after  his  death  was 
worshiped  as  a  saint  by  the  lovers  of  burlesque.1  In 
one  of  his  drollest  sonnets  he  complains  that  poets 
were  wont  to  steal  their  neighbors'  verses,  but  that 
he  is  compelled  to  take  the  credit  of  more  than  he 
ever  wrote 2 : 

1 II  Lasca  prefixed  a  sonnet  to  his  edition  of  1548,  in  which  he  speaks 
of  "  II  Berni  nostro  dabbene  e  gentile,"  calls  him  "  primo  e  vero  trova- 
tore,  Maestro  e  padre  del  burlesco  stile,"  says  that  it  is  possible  to  envy 
but  impossible  to  imitate  him,  and  compares  him  thus  with  Burchiello: 
Non  sia  chi  mi  ragioni  di  Burchiello, 
Che  saria  proprio  come  comparare 
Caron  Dimonio  all'  Agnol  Gabriello. 
In  another  sonnet  he  climbs  a  further  height  of  panegyric: 
Quanti  mai  fur  poeti  al  mondo  e  sono, 
Volete  in  Greco,  in  Ebreo,  o  in  Latino, 
A  petto  a  lui  no/i  vagliono  un  lupino, 
Tant'  e  dotto,  faceto,  bello  e  buono: 
and  winds  up  with  the  strange  assurance  that: 

da  lui  si  sente 

Anzi  s*  impara  con  gioja  infinita 
Come  viver  si  debbe  in  questa  vita. 
1  Soimet  xxvii. 


BERNPS  POPULARITY.  363 

A  me  quei  d'  altri  son  per  forza  dati, 
E  dicon  tu  gli  arai,  vuoi  o  non  vuoi. 

A  piece  of  comic  prose  or  verse  cannot  appear  but  that 
it  is  at  once  ascribed  to  him : 

E  la  gente  faceta 

Mi  vuole  pure  impiastrar  di  prose  e  carmi, 
Come  s'  io  fussi  di  razza  di  marmi: 

Non  posso  ripararmi; 
Come  si  vede  fuor  qualche  sonetto, 
II  Berni  1"  ha  composto  a  suo  dispetto. 

E  fanvi  su  un  guazzetto 
Di  chiose  e  di  sensi,  che  rinnieghi  il  cielo, 
Se  Luter  fa  piti  stracci  del  Vangelo. 

One  of  the  glosses  referred  to  in  this  coda,  lies  before 
me  as  I  write.  It  was  composed  by  Gianmaria 
Cecchi  on  Berni's  sonnet  which  begins  "  Cancheri  e 
beccafichi."  The  sonnet  is  an  amusing  imprecation 
upon  matrimony,  written  in  one  paragraph,  and  con- 
taining the  sting  of  the  epigram  in  its  short  coda  of 
three  lines.1  But  it  did  not  need  a  commentary,  and 
Cecchi's  voluminous  annotations  justify  the  poet's 
comic  anger. 

Berni's  Capitoli  may  be  broadly  divided  into  three 
classes.  The  first  includes  his  poetical  epistles,  ad- 
dressed to  Fracastoro,  Sebastian  del  Piombo,  Ippolito 
de'  Medici,  Marco  Veneziano,  and  other  friends.  Ex- 
cept for  the  peculiar  humor,  which  elevates  the  trivial 
accidents  of  life  to  comedy,  except  for  the  consummate 
style,  which  dignifies  the  details  of  familiar  correspon- 
dence and  renders  fugitive  effusions  classical,  these 
letters  in  verse  would  scarcely  detach  themselves  from 
a  mass  of  similar  compositions.  As  it  is,  Berni's  per- 
sonality renders  them  worthy  companions  of  Ariosto's 

i  Sonnet  ix. 


364  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

masterpieces  in  a  similar  but  nicely  differentiated  branch 
of  literature.  It  remains  for  the  amateurs  of  autobio- 
graphical poetry  to  choose  between  the  self-revelation 
of  the  philosophizing  Ferrarese  poet  and  the  brilliant 
trifling  of  the  Florentine.  The  second  class  embraces  a 
number  of  occasional  poems — the  Complaint  against 
Love,  the  Deluge  in  Mugello,  the  Satire  upon  Adrian 
VI.,  the  Lamentation  of  Nardino — descriptive  or  sar- 
castic pieces,  where  the  poet  chooses  a  theme  and  de- 
velops it  with  rhetorical  abundance.  The  third  class 
may  be  regarded  as  the  special  source  and  fountain"  of 
the  Bernesque  manner,  as  afterwards  adopted  and  elabo- 
rated by  Berni's  imitators.  Omitting  personal  or  occa- 
sional motives,  he  sings  the  praises  of  the  Plague,  of 
Primiera,  of  Aristotle,  of  Peaches,  of  Debt,  of  Eels, 
of  the  Urinal,  of  Thistles,  and  of  other  trifling  sub- 
jects. Here  his  burlesque  genius  takes  the  most  fan- 
tastic flight,  soaring  to  the  ether  of  absurdity  and  sink- 
ing to  the  nadir  of  obscenity,  combining  heterogeneous 
elements  of  fun  and  farce,  yet  never  transgressing  the 
limits  of  refined  taste.  These  Capitoli  revealed  a  new 
vehicle  of  artistic  expression  to  his  contemporaries. 
Penetrated  with  their  author's  individuality,  they 
caught  the  spirit  of  the  age  and  met  its  sense  of 
humor.  Consequently  they  became  the  touchstones 
of  burlesque  inspiration,  the  models  which  tempted 
men  of  feebler  force  and  more  uncertain  tact  to  hope- 
less tasks  of  emulation.  %  We  still  possess  La  Casa's 
Capitolo  on  the  Oven ;  Molza's  on  Salad  and  the  Fig ; 
Firenzuola's  on  the  Sausage  and  the  Legno  Santo; 
Bronzino's  on  the  Paint-brush  and  the  Radish;  Are- 
tino's  on  the  Quartan  Fever;  Franzesi's  on  Carrots 


BERNESQ.UE    CAPITOLI.  365 

and  Chestnuts;  Varchi's  on  Hard  Eggs  and  Fennel; 
Mauro's  on  Beans  and  Priapus ;  Dolce's  on  Spittle  and 
Noses ;  Bini's  on  the  Mai  Franzese;  Lori's  on  Apples ; 
Ruscelli's  on  the  Spindle  —  not  to  speak  of  many 
authors,  the  obscurity  of  whose  names  and  the  ob- 
scenity of  the  themes  they  celebrated,  condemn  them 
to  condign  oblivion.  Not  without  reason  did  Grego- 
rovius  stigmatize  these  poems  as  a  moral  syphilis,  in- 
vading Italian  literature  and  penetrating  to  the  re- 
motest fibers  of  its  organism.  After  their  publication 
in  academical  circles  and  their  further  diffusion  through 
the  press,  simple  terms  which  had  been  used  to  cloak 
their  improprieties,  became  the  bywords  of  porno- 
graphic pamphleteers  and  poets.  Figs,  beans,  peaches, 
apples,  chestnuts  acquired  a  new  and  scandalous  signi- 
ficance. Sins  secluded  from  the  light  of  day  by  a 
modest  instinct  of  humanity,  flaunted  their  loathsome- 
ness without  shame  beneath  the  ensigns  of  these 
literary  allegories.  The  corruption  of  society,  hypo- 
critically veiled  or  cynically  half-revealed  in  coteries, 
expressed  itself  too  plainly  through  the  phraseology 
invented  by  a  set  of  sensual  poets.  The  most  dis- 
tinguished members  of  society,  Cardinals  like  Bembo, 
prelates  like  La  Casa,  painters  like  Bronzino,  critics 
like  Varchi,  scholars  like  Molza,  lent  the  prestige  of 
their  position  and  their  talents  to  the  diffusion  of  this 
leprosy,  which  still  remains  the  final  most  convincing 
testimony  to  the  demoralization  of  Italy  in  the  Re- 


naissance. 


i  The  scholars  of  the  day  were  not  content  with  writing  burlesque 
Capitoli.  They  must  needs  annotate  them.  See  Caro's  Commentary 
on  the  Ficheide.  of  Molza  (Romagnoli,  Scelta  di  Curiositd  Letterarie. 
Dispensa  vii.  Bologna,  1862)  for  the  most  celebrated  example.  There 


366  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

To  what  extent,  it  may  be  asked,  was  Berni  re- 
sponsible for  these  consequences?  He  brought  the 
indecencies  of  the  piazza,  where  they  were  the  com- 
paratively innocuous  expression  of  coarse  instincts, 
into  the  close  atmosphere  of  the  study  and  the  acade- 
mical circle,  refined  their  vulgarisms,  and  made  their 
viciousness  attractive  by  the  charm  of  his  incomparable 
style.  This  transition  from  the  Canto  Carnascialesco 
to  the  Capitolo  may  be  observed  in  Berni's  Caccia  di 
Amore,  a  very  licentious  poem  dedicated  to  "noble  and 
gentle  ladies."  It  is  a  Carnival  Song  or  Canzone  a 
Ballo  rewritten  in  octave  stanzas  of  roseate  fluency 
and  seductive  softness.  A  band  of  youthful  huntsmen 
pay  their  court  in  it  to  women,  and  the  double  entendre 
exactly  reproduces  the  style  of  innuendo  rendered 
fashionable  by  Lorenzo  de'  Medici.  Yet,  though 
Berni  is  unquestionably  answerable  for  the  obscene 
Capitoli  of  the  sixteenth  century,  it  must  not  be  for- 
gotten that  he  only  gave  form  to  material  already 
sufficiently  appropriated  by  the  literary  classes. 
With  him,  the  grossness  which  formed  the  staple  of 
Mauro's,  Molza's,  Bini's,  La  Casa's  and  Bronzino's 
poems,  the  depravities  of  appetite  which  poisoned  the 
very  substance  of  their  compositions,  were  but  acci- 
dental. The  poet  stood  above  them  and  in  some 
measure  aloof  from  them,  employing  these  ingre- 
dients in  the  concoction  of  his  burlesque,  but  never 
losing  the  main  object  of  his  art  in  their  develop- 
ment. A  bizarre  literary  effect,  rather  than  the  in- 
dulgence of  a  sensual  imagination,  was  the  aim  he 

is  not  a  sentence  in  this  long  and  witty  composition,  read  before  the  Ac- 
cademia  delle  Virtu,  which  does  not  contain  a  grossly  obscene  allusion, 
scarcely  a  paragraph  which  does  not  refer  to  an  unmentionable  vice. 


BERNFS    TREATMENT   OF  PLEBEIAN   THEMES.       367 

had  in  view.  Therefore,  while  we  regret  that  his  ex- 
ample gave  occasion  to  coarser  debaucheries  of  talent, 
we  are  bound  to  acknowledge  that  the  jests  to  which  he 
condescended,  do  not  represent  his  most  essential  self. 
This,  however,  is  but  a  feeble  apology.  That  without 
the  excuse  of  passion,  without  satirical  motive  or  over- 
mastering personal  proclivity,  he  should  have  penned 
the  Capitolo  a  M.  Antonio  da  Bibbiena,  and  have  joked 
about  giving  and  taking  his  metaphorical  peaches,  re- 
mains an  ineradicable  blot  upon  his  nature.1 

The  Bernesque  Capitoli  were  invariably  written  in 
terza  rima,  which  at  this  epoch  became  the  recognized 
meter  of  epistolary,  satirical,  and  dissertational  poetry 
throughout  Italy.2  Thus  the  rhythm  of  the  Divine 
Comedy  received  final  development  by  lending  itself 
to  the  expression  of  whims,  fancies,  personal  invectives 
and  scurrilities.  To  quote  from  Berni's  masterpieces 
in  this  style  would  be  impossible.  Each  poem  of 
about  one  hundred  lines  is  a  perfect  and  connected 
unity,  which  admits  of  no  mutilation  by  the  detachment 
of  separate  passages.  Still  readers  may  be  referred 
to  the  Capitolo  a  Fracastoro  and  the  two  Capitoli  della 
Peste  as  representative  of  the  poet's  humor  in  its 
purest  form,  without  the  moral  deformities  of  the  still 
more  celebrated  Pesche  or  the  uncleanliness  of  the 
Orinale. 

1  The  six  opening  lines  of  the  Lamentazion  d*  Amore  prevent  our 
regarding  Berni's  jests  as  wholly  separate  from  his  experience  and 
practice. 

2  A  familiar  illustration  is  Cellini's  Capitolo  del  Carcere.    ' 
examples  of  these  occasional  poems,  written  for  the  popular  taste,  are 
furnished  by  Mutinelli  in  his  Annali  Urbani  di  Venezia.    See  above 
Part  i.  pp.  172,  519,  for  the  vicissitudes  of  terza  rima  after  the  close  of 
the  fourteenth  century. 


368  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

At  the  close  of  the  Capitolo  written  on  the  occa- 
sion of  Adrian  VI.'s  election  to  the  Papacy,  Berni  de- 
clared that  it  had  never  been  his  custom  to  speak  ill 
of  people : 

L*  usanza  mia  non  fu  mai  di  dir  male; 

E  che  sia  il  ver,  leggi  le  cose  mie, 

Leggi  1'  Anguille,  leggi  1*  Orinale, 
Le  Pesche,  i  Cardi  e  1*  altre  fantasie: 

Tutte  sono  inni,  salmi,  laudi  ed  ode. 

We  have  reason  to  believe  this  declaration.  Genial 
good  humor  is  a  characteristic  note  of  his  literary 
temperament.  At  the  same  time  he  was  no  mean 
master  of  caricature  and  epigram.  The  Capitolo  in 
question  is  a  sustained  tirade  against  the  Fleming,  who 
had  come  to  break  the  peace  of  polished  Rome — a 
shriek  of  angry  lamentation  over  altered  times,  in- 
tolerable insults,  odious  innovations.  The  amazement 
and  discomfiture  of  the  poet,  contrasted  with  his 
burlesque  utterance,  render  this  composition  comic  in 
a  double  sense.  Its  satire  cuts  both  ways,  against  the 
author  and  the  object  of  his  rage.  Yet  when  Adrian 
gave  place  to  Giulio  de'  Medici,  and  Berni  discovered 
what  kind  of  a  man  the  new  Pope  was,  he  vented  nobler 
scorn  in  verse  of  far  more  pungent  criticism.  His 
sonnet  on  Clement  is  remarkable  for  exactly  express- 
ing the  verdict  posterity  has  formed  after  cool  and 
mature  inquiry  into  this  Pope's  actions.  Clement's 
weakness  and  irresolution  must  end,  the  poet  says,  by 
making  even  Adrian  seem,  a  saint x : 

1  A  Papacy  composed  of  compliment, 
Debate,  consideration,  complaisance, 
Of  furthermore,  then,  but,  yes,  well,  perchance, 
Haply,  and  such-like  terms  inconsequent; 


SONNET   ON   CLEMENT    VII.  ^ 

Un  Papato  composto  di  rispetti, 

Di  considerazioni  e  di  discorsi, 

Di  piu,  di  poi,  di  ma,  di  si,  di  forsi, 

Di  pur,  di  assai  parole  senza  effetti; 
Di  pensier,  di  consigli,  di  concetti, 

Di  congetture  magre  per  apporsi 

D'  intrattenerti,  purche  non  si  sborsi, 

Con  audienze,  risposte,  e  bei  detti: 
Di  pie  di  piombo  e  di  neutralita, 

Di  pazienza,  di  dimostrazione, 

Di  Fede,  di  Speranza  e  Carita, 
D'  innocenza,  di  buona  intenzione; 

Ch'  e  quasi  come  dir,  semplicita, 

Per  non  le  dare  altra  interpretazione, 

Sia  con  sopportazione, 
Lo  dirbpur,  vedrete  che  pian  piano 
Fara  canonizzar  Papa  Adriano. 

The  insight  into  Clement's  character  displayed  in  this 
sonnet,  the  invective  against  Adrian,  and  the  acerbity 
of  another  sonnet  against  Alessandro  de'  Medici: 

Empio  Signer,  che  de  la  roba  altrui 
Lieto  ti  vai  godendo,  e  del  sudore: 

would  gain  in  cogency,  could  we  attach  more  value  to 
the  manliness  of  Berni's  utterances.  But  when  we 
know  that,  while  he  was  showering  curses  on  the 
Duke  of  Civita  di  Penna,  he  frequented  the  Medicean 
Court  and  wrote  a  humorous  Capitolo  upon  Gradasso, 

Of  thought,  conjecture,  counsel,  argument, 

Starveling  surmise  to  summon  countenance, 

Negotiations,  audiences,  romance, 

Fine  words  and  shifts,  disbursement  to  prevent; 
Of  feet  of  lead,  of  tame  neutrality, 

Of  patience  and  parade  to  outer  view, 

Of  fawning  Faith,  of  Hope  and  Charity, 
Of  Innocence  and  good  intentions  too, 

Which  it  were  well  to  dub  simplicity, 

Uglier  interpretations  to  eschew; 
With  your  permission,  you, 
To  speak  the  plain  truth  out,  shall  live  to  see 
Pope  Adrian  sainted  through  this  Papacy. 


370  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

a  dwarf  of  Cardinal  Ippolito,  we  feel  forced  to  place 
these  epigrammatic  effusions  among  the  ebullitions  of 
personal  rather  than  political  animosity.  There  was 
nothing  of  the  patriot  in  Berni,  not  even  so  much  as 
in  Machiavelli,  who  himself  avowed  his  readiness  to 
roll  stones  for  the  Signori  Medici. 

As  a  satirist,  Berni  appears  to  better  advantage  in 
his  caricatures  of  private  or  domestic  personages.  The 
portrait  of  his  housekeeper,  who  combined  in  her 
single  person  all  the  antiquities  of  all  the  viragos  of 
romance: 

Io  ho  per  cameriera  mia  1"  Ancroja 
Madre  di  Ferrau,  zia  di  Morgante, 
Arcavola  maggior  dell'  Amostante, 
Balia  del  Turco  e  suocera  del  Boja: 

Alcionio  upon  his  mule: 

Quella  che  per  soperchio  digiunare 
Tra  1'  anime  celesti  benedette 
Come  un  corpo  diafano  traspare: 

Ser  Cecco  who  could  never  be  severed  from  the  Court, 
nor  the  Court  from  Ser  Cecco: 

Perch'  ambedue  son  la  Corte  e  ser  Cecco: 

the  pompous  doctor: 

1'  ambasciador  del  Boja, 
Un  medico,  maestro  Guazzaletto: 

Domenico  d'  Ancona,  the  memory  of  whose  beard, 
shorn  by  some  Vandal  of  a  barber,  draws  tears  from 
every  sympathetic  soul: 

Or  hai  dato,  barbier,  Y  ultimo  crollo 
Ad  una  barba  la  piti  singolare 
Che  mai  fosse  descritta  in  verso  o  'n  prosa: 

these  form  a  gallery  of  comic  likenesses,  drawn  from 
the  life  and  communicated  with  the  force  of  reality  to 


CARICATURES.  37 1 

the  reader.  Each  is  perfect  in  style,  clearly  cut  like 
some  antique  chalcedony,  bringing  the  object  of  the 
poet's  mirth  before  us  with  the  exact  measure  of  ridi- 
cule he  sought  to  inflict.1 

This  satiric  power  culminates  in  the  sonnet  on 
Pietro  Aretino.2  The  tartness  of  Berni's  more  good- 
humored  pasquinades  is  concentrated  to  vitriol  by 
unadulterated  loathing.  He  flings  this  biting  acid  in 
the  face  of  one  whom  he  has  found  a  scoundrel.  The 
sonnet  starts  at  the  white  heat  of  fury: 

Tu  ne  dirai  e  farai  tante  e  tante, 
Lingua  fracida,  marcia,  senza  sale. 

It  proceeds  with  execration;  and  when  the  required 
fourteen  lines  have  been  terminated,  it  foams  over  into 
rage  more  voluble  and  still  more  voluble,  unwinding 
the  folds  of  an  interminable  Coda  with  ever-increasing 
crescendo  of  vituperation,  as  though  the  passion  of  the 
writer  could  not  be  appeased.  The  whole  has  to  be 
read  at  one  breath.  No  quotation  can  render  a  con- 
ception of  its  rhetorical  art.  Every  word  strikes 
home  because  every  word  contains  a  truth  expressed 
in  language  of  malignant  undiluted  heart-felt  hate. 
That  most  difficult  of  literary  triumphs,  to  render 
abuse  sublime,  to  sustain  a  single  note  of  fierce  in- 
vective without  relaxing  or  weakening  the  several 
grades  that  lead  to  the  catastrophe,  has  been  accom- 

.  i  Sonnets  xi.  xvi.  xiv.  iii.  xx.  The  same  vivid  picturesqueness  is  dis- 
played in  the  desecrated  Abbey  (Sonnet  xvii.),  which  deserves  to  be 
called  an  etching  in  words. 

2  Sonnet  xix.     In  the  Capitolo  to  Ippolito  de'  Medici,  Berni  thus  al- 
ludes to  Aretino: 

Com'  ha  fatto  non  so  chi  mio  vicino, 

Ghe  veste  d'  oro,  e  piu  non  degna  il  panno, 
E  dassi  del  messere  e  del  divino. 


372  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

plished.  This  achievement  is  no  doubt  due  in  some 
measure  to  the  exact  correspondence  between  what 
we  know  of  Pietro  Aretino  and  what  Berni  has  written 
of  him.  Yet  its  blunt  fidelity  to  fact  does  not  detract 
from  the  skill  displayed  in  the  handling  of  those  triple 
series  of  rhymes,  each  one  of  which  descends  like  a 
lash  upon  the  writhing  back  beneath: 

Ch*  ormai  ogni  paese 
Hai  ammorbato,  ogn'  uom,  ogn'  animate, 
II  ciel  e  Dio  e  '1  diavol  ti  vuol  male. 

Quelle  veste  ducale, 
O  ducali  accattate  e  furfantate, 
Che  ti  piangono  addosso  sventurate, 

A  suon  di  bastonate 
Ti  saran  tratte,  prima  che  tu  muoja, 
Dal  reverendo  padre  messer  boja, 

Che  1'  anima  di  noja, 
Mediante  un  capestro,  caveratti, 
E  per  maggior  favore  squarteratti; 

E  quei  tuoi  leccapiatti, 
Bardassonacci,  paggi  da  taverna, 
Ti  canteranno  il  requiem  eterna. 

Or  vivi  e  ti  governa, 

Bench'  un  pugnale,  un  cesso,  overo  un  nodo 
Ti  faranno  star  cheto  in  ogni  moclo. 

From  this  conclusion  the  rest  may  be  divined.  Berni 
paid  dearly  for  the  satisfaction  of  thus  venting  his 
spleen.  Aretino  had  found  more  than  his  match. 
Though  himself  a  master  in  the  art  of  throwing  dirt, 
he  could  not,  like  Berni,  sling  his  missiles  with  the 
certainty  of  gaining  for  "himself  by  the  same  act  an 
immortality  of  glory.  This  privilege  is  reserved  for 
the  genius  of  style,  and  style  alone.  Therefore  he 
had  to  shrink  in  silence  under  Berni's  scourge.  But 
Aretino  was  not  the  man  to  forego  revenge  if  only 


BERNI   ON  ARETINO. 


373 


an  opportunity  for  inflicting  injury  upon  his  antago- 
nist, full  and  effectual,  and  without  peril  to  himself, 
was  offered.  The  occasion  came  after  Berni's  death; 
and  how  he  availed  himself  of  it,  will  appear  in  the 
next  paragraphs. 

Though  the  Capitoli  and  sonnets  won  for  their 
author  the  high  place  he  occupies  among  Italian  poets, 
Berni  is  also  famous  for  his  rifacimento  or  remodeling 
of  the  Orlando  Innamorato.  He  undertook  this  task 
after  the  publication  of  the  Furioso',  and  though  part 
was  written  at  Verona,  we  know  from  references  to 
contemporary  events  contained  in  the  rifacimento,  that 
Berni  was  at  work  upon  it  in  the  last  years  of  his  life 
at  Florence.  It  was  not  published  until  some  time 
after  his  death.  Berni  subjected  the  whole  of  Boiardo's 
poem  to  minute  revision,  eliminating  obsolete  words 
and  Lombard  phrases,  polishing  the  verse,  and  soften- 
ing the  roughness  of  the  elder  poet's  style.  He 
omitted  a  few  passages,  introduced  digressions,  con- 
nected the  episodes  by  links  and  references,  and  opened 
each  canto  with  a  dissertation  in  the  manner  of  Ariosto. 
Opinions  may  vary  as  to  the  value  of  the  changes 
wrought  by  Berni.  But  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
his  work  was  executed  with  artistic  accuracy,  and  that 
his  purpose  was  a  right  one.  He  aimed  at  nothing 
less  than  rendering  a  noble  poem  adequate  to  ^the 
measure  of  literary  excellence  attained  by  the  Italians 
since  Boiardo's  death.  The  Innamorato  was  to  be 
made  worthy  of  the  Furioso.  The  nation  was  to 

1  *  11 

possess  a  continuous  epic  of  Orlando,  complete  in  ; 
its    parts   and    uniformly   pure   in   style.     Had  ^  Berni 
lived  to  see  his  own  work  through  the  press,  it  is  pro- 


374  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

bable  that  this  result  would  have  been  attained.  As 
it  happened,  the  malignity  of  fortune  or  the  malice  of 
a  concealed  enemy  defeated  his  intention.  We  only 
possess  a  deformed  version  of  his  rifacimento.  The 
history,  or  rather  the  tragedy,  of  its  publication  involves 
some  complicated  questions  of  conjecture.  Yet  the 
side-lights  thrown  upon  the  conditions  of  literature  at 
that  time  in  Italy,  as  well  as  on  the  mystery  of  Berni's 
death,  are  sufficiently  interesting  to  justify  the  requisite 
expenditure  of  space  and  time. 

The  rifacimento  appeared  in  a  mutilated  form  at 
Venice  in  1541,  from  the  press  of  the  Giunti,  and 
again  in  1642  at  Milan  from  that  of  Francesco  Calvo. 
These  two  issues  are  identical,  except  in  the  title  and 
tail  pages.  The  same  batch  of  sheets  was  in  fact 
divided  by  the  two  publishers.  In  1646  another  issue, 
called  Edizione  Seconda,  saw  the  light  at  Venice,  in 
which  Giunta  introduced  a  very  significant  note,  point- 
ing out  that  certain  stanzas  were  not  the  work  of  "  M. 
Francesco  Berni,  but  of  one  who  presumptuously 
willed  to  do  him  so  great  an  injury."  l  This  edition, 
differing  in  many  respects  from  those  of  1641  and 
1642,  was  on  the  whole  an  improvement.  It  would 
seem  that  the  publishers,  in  the  interval  between  1641 
and  i545,  regretted  that  Berni's  copy  had  been  tam- 
pered with,  and  did  their  best,  in  the  absence  of  the 
original,  to  restore  a  correct  text.  Still,  as  Giunta 
acknowledged,  the  rifaciniento  had  been  irretrievably 
damaged  by  some  private  foe.2  The  introductory 

1  "Di  chi  presuntuosamente  gli  ha  voluto  fare  tanta  ingiuria."  This 
note  occurs  at  Stanza  83  of  Canto  I. 

8  In  some  cases  the  readings  of  the  second  edition  are  inferior  to 


RIFACIMENTO    OF    THE    INNAMORATO.  375 

dedication  to  Isabella  Gonzaga,  where  we  might  have 
expected  an  allusion  to  Boiardo,  is  certainly  not  Berni's; 
and  the  two  lines, 

N6  ti  sdegnar  veder  quel  ch'  altri  volse 
Forse  a  te  dedicar,  ma  morte  il  tolse, 

must  be  understood  to  refer  to  Berni's  and  not  to 
Boiardo's  death.  Comparison  of  the  two  editions 
makes  it,  moreover,  clear  that  Berni's  MS.  had  been 
garbled,  and  the  autograph  probably  put  out  of  the 
way  before  the  publication  of  the  poem. 

Who  is  to  be  held  responsible  for  this  fraud?  Who 
was  the  presumptuous  enemy  who  did  such  injury  to 
Berni  ?  Panizzi,  so  far  back  as  1830,  pointed  out  that 
Giovanni  Alberto  Albicante  took  some  part  in  prepar- 
ing the  edition  of  1541-2.  This  man  prefixed  sonnets 
written  by  himself  to  the  rifacimento;  "  whence  we 
might  conclude  that  he  was  the  editor."1  Signer 
Virgili,  to  whose  researches  attention  has  already  been 
directed,  proved  further  by  references  to  Pietro  Are- 
tino's  correspondence  that  this  old  enemy  of  Berni  had 
a  hand  in  the  same  work.  Writing  to  Francesco  Calvo 

those  of  the  first,  while  both  fall  short  of  Boiardo.  Boiardo  wrote  in  his 
description  of  Astolfo  (Canto  i.  60): 

Quel  solea  dir  ch  egli  era  per  sciagura, 

E  tornava  a  cader  senza  paura. 

In  the  rifacimento  of  1541  we  have: 

E  alle  volte  cadeva  per  sciagura, 
E  si  levava  poi  senza  paura. 

In  that  of  1545: 

Un  sol  dispetto  avea:  dice  Turpino 
Che  nel  cader  alquanto  era  latino. 

I  take  these  instances  from  Panizzi. 

>  Boiardo  ed  Ariosto,  vol.  ii.  p.  cxxxiv. 


RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

from  Venice  on  February  16,  1640,  Aretino  approaches 
the  subject  of  the  rifacimento  in  these  words1:  "Our 
friend  Albicante  informs  me,  with  reference  to  the 
printing  of  Orlando  defamed  by  Berni,  that  you  are 
good  enough  to  meet  my  wishes,  for  which  I  thank 
you.  .  .  .  You  will  see  that,  for  the  sake  of  your  own 
modesty,  you  are  bound  either  not  to  issue  the  book 
at  all,  or  else  to  purge  it  of  all  evil-speaking."  He 
then  states  that  it  had  been  his  own  intention  "  to 
emend  the  Count  of  Scandiano's  Innamoramento,  a 
thing  in  its  kind  of  heroic  beauty,  but  executed  in  a 
trivial  style,  and  expressed  with  phrases  at  once  plebeian 
and  obsolete."  This  task  he  renounced  upon  reflection 
that  it  would  bring  him  no  fame  to  assume  the  mask 
of  a  dead  man's  labors.  In  another  letter  to  the  same 
Calvo,  dated  February  17,  1642,  Aretino  resumes  the 
subject.  Sbernia  (so  he  chooses  to  call  Berni)  has 
been  "  overwhelmed  beneath  the  ruins  he  pulled  down 
upon  himself  by  his  undoing  of  the  Innamoramento  I"1 
Now,  it  is  certain  that  the  ruin  proclaimed  by  Aretino 
did  really  fall  on  Berni's  labors.  In  1546  Lodovico 
Domenichi  published  a  second  rifacimento,  far  inferior 
in  style  to  that  of  Berni,  and  executed  with  the  sloven- 
liness of  a  literary  hack.  But  this  was  several  times 
reprinted,  whereas  Berni's  remained  neglected  on  the 
shelves  of  the  librarians  until  the  year  1726,  when  it 

1  Letter e,  Book  ii.  p.  121. 

*  Ibid.  p.  249.  We  might  quQte  a  parallel  passage  from  the  Pro- 
logue to  the  Ipocrita,  which  Aretino  published  in  1542,  just  after  ac- 
complishing his  revenge  on  Berni:  "lo  non  ho  pensato  al  gastigo  che 
io  darei  a  quegli  che  pongono  il  lor  nome  nei  libri  che  essi  guastano 
nella  foggia  che  un  non  so  chi  ha  guasto  il  Boiardo,  per  non  mi  credere 
che  si  trovasse  cotanta  temerite  nella  presunzione  del  mondo."  The 
hypocrisy  of  this  is  worthy  of  the  play's  title. 


PUBLICATION   OF   THE   RIFACTMENTO.  377 

was  republished  and  welcomed  with  a  storm  of  exagge- 
rated enthusiasm. 

We  have  therefore  reached  this  conclusion,  that 
Aretino,  aided  by  Albicante,  both  of  them  notable 
literary  brigands,  contrived  to  send  a  mutilated  version 
of  the  rifacimento  to  press,  with  a  view  of  doing 
irreparable  mischief  to  Berni's  reputation.1  We  have 
also  seen  that  there  was  something  dangerous  in 
Berni's  work,  described  by  Aretino  as  maldicentia, 
which  he  held  as  a  threat  over  the  Milanese  publisher. 
Lastly,  Giunta  recognized  too  late  that  he  had  made 
himself  the  party  to  some  act  of  malice  by  issuing  a 
garbled  copy.  Aretino  had,  we  know,  a  private  grudge 
to  satisfy.  He  could  not  forget  the  castigation  he 
received  at  Berni's  hands,  in  the  sonnet  which  has 
been  already  described.  The  hatred  subsisting  be- 
tween the  two  men  had  been  further  exasperated  by 
the  different  parts  they  took  in  a  literary  duel.  An- 
tonio Broccardo,  a  young  Venetian  scholar,  attacked 
Pietro  Bembo's  fame  at  Padua  in  1530,  and  attempted 
to  raise  allies  against  the  great  dictator.  Aretino  took 
up  the  cudgels  for  Bembo,  and  assailed  Broccardo  with 
vehement  abuse  and  calumny.  Berni  ranged  himself 
upon  Broccardo's  side.  The  quarrel  ended  in  Broc- 
cardo's  death  under  suspicious  circumstances  in  1631 
at  Padua.  He  was,  indeed,  said  to  have  been  killed 
by  Aretino.2  Berni  died  mysteriously  at  Florence 

1  Mazzuchelli  (Scrittori  d '  Italia:  Albicante,  Giov.  Alberto)  may  be 
consulted  about  the  relations  between  these  two  ruffians,  who  alternately 
praised  and  abused  each  other  in  print. 

2  See  Mazzuchelli,  op.  cit.,  under  "  Brocardo,  Antonio."    The  spell 
ing  of  the  name  varies.     Bembo,  six  years  afterwards,  told  Varchi  that 
Aretino  drove  Broccardo  for  him  into  an  early  grave.     See  Lettere  all' 
Aretino,  vol.  ii.  p.  186,  ed.  Romagnoli.     The  probability  is  that  Broc- 


378  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

four  years  later,  and  Aretino  caused  his  rifacimento, 
"  purged  of  evil-speaking,"  to  be  simultaneously  pub- 
lished at  Venice  and  Milan. 

The  question  still  remains  to  be  asked  how  Aretino, 
Berni's  avowed  enemy,  obtained  possession  of  the  MS. 
Berni  had  many  literary  friends.  Yet  none  of  them 
came  forward  to  avert  the  catastrophe.  None  of 
them  undertook  the  publication  of  his  remains.  His 
last  work  was  produced,  not  at  Florence,  where  he 
lived  and  died,  but  at  Venice ;  and  Albicante,  Aretino's 
tool,  was  editor.  In  the  present  state  of  our  knowl- 
edge it  is  impossible  to  answer  this  question  authorita- 
tively. Considerable  light,  however,  is  thrown  upon  the 
mystery  by  a  pamphlet  published  in  1664  by  the  heretic 
Vergerio.  He  states  that  Berni  undertook  his  rifaci- 
mento  with  the  view  of  diffusing  Protestant  doctrines 
in  a  popular  and  unobtrusive  form  ;  but  that  the  craft 
of  the  devil,  or  in  other  words  the  policy  of  the  Church, 
effected  its  suppression  at  the  very  moment  when  it  was 
finished  and  all  but  printed.1  Here,  then,  we  seem  to 
find  some  missing  links  in  the  dark  chain  of  intrigue. 
Aretino's  phrase  maldicentia  is  explained ;  his  menace 

cardo  died  of  fever  aggravated  by  the  annoyance  caused  him  by  Areti- 
no's calumnies.  There  is  no  valid  suspicion  of  poison. 

1  This  curious  pamphlet  was  reprinted  from  a  unique  copy  by  Pa- 
nizzi,  op.  cit.  vol.  iii.  p.  361.  In  the  introduction,  Vergerio  gives  an  in- 
teresting account  of  Berni.  He  represents  him  as  a  man  of  worldly  life, 
addicted  to  gross  pleasures  and  indecent  literature  until  within  a  few 
years  of  his  death.  Having  been  converted  to  evangelical  faith  in 
Christ,  Berni  then  resolved  to  use  the  Orlando  as  a  vehicle  for  Luther- 
an opinions;  and  his  rifacimento  was  already  almost  printed,  when  the 
devil  found  means  to  suppress  it.  Vergerio  is  emphatic  in  his  state- 
ment that  the  poem  was  finished  and  nearly  printed.  If  this  was  indeed 
the  case,  we  must  suppose  that  Albicante  worked  upon  the  sheets,  can- 
celing some  and  leaving  others,  and  thai  the  book  thus  treated  was  after- 
wards shared  by  Giunta  and  Calvo. 


ARETINO'S   SHARE   IN   THE    WORK.  379 

to  Francesco  Calvo  becomes  intelligible;  the  silence  of 
Berni's  friends  can  be  accounted  for;  and  the  agency 
by  which  the  MS.  was  placed  in  Albicante's  hands,  can 
be  at  least  conjectured.  As  a  specimen  of  Berni's 
Lutheran  propaganda,  Vergerio  subjoins  eighteen 
stanzas,  written  in  the  poet's  purest  style,  which  were 
addressed  to  Battista  Sanga,  and  which  formed  the 
induction  to  the  twentieth  Canto.  This  induction,  as 
it  stands  in  Berni's  Innamorato,  is  reduced  to  seven 
stanzas,  grossly  garbled  and  deformed  in  diction.  Very 
few  of  the  original  lines  have  been  retained,  and  those 
substituted  are  full  of  vulgarisms.1  From  a  comparison 
of  the  original  supplied  by  Vergerio  with  the  mutilated 
version,  the  full  measure  of  the  mischief  practiced  upon 
Berni's  posthumous  work  can  be  gauged.  Further- 
more, it  must  be  noticed  that  these  compromising 
eighteen  stanzas  contained  the  names  of  several  men 
alive  in  Italy,  all  of  whom  were  therefore  interested  in 
their  suppression,  or  precluded  from  exposing  the  fraud. 
The  inference  I  am  inclined  to  draw  from  Signor 
Virgili's  researches,  combined  with  Vergerio's  pamphlet, 
is  that  the  Church  interfered  to  prevent  the  publica- 
tion of  Berni's  heretical  additions  to  Boiardo's  poem. 
Berni's  sudden  death,  throwing  his  affairs  into  con- 
fusion at  the  moment  when  he  was  upon  the  point  of 
finishing  the  business,  afforded  an  excellent  occasion  to 
his  ecclesiastical  and  personal  opponents,  who  seem 
to  have  put  some  pressure  on  his  kinsmen  to  obtain 

i  I  shall  print  a  translation  of  the  eighteen  stanzas  in  an  Appendix 
to  this  volume.     Lines  like  the  following, 

Arrandellarsi  come  un  salsicciuolo, 
which  are  common  in  the  mangled  version,  would  never  have  passed 

Berni's  censure. 


380  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

the  MS.  or  the  sheets  they  meant  to  mutilate.1  The 
obnoxious  passages  may  have  been  denounced  by 
Aretino;  for  we  know  that  he  was  intimate  with 
Vergerio,  and  it  is  more  than  probable  that  the  verses 
to  Sanga  were  already  in  circulation.2  Aretino,  strange 
to  say,  was  regarded  in  clerical  quarters  as  a  pillar  of 
the  Church.  He  therefore  found  it  in  his  power  to 
wreak  his  vengeance  on  an  enemy  at  the  same  time 
that  he  posed  as  a  defender  of  the  faith.  That  he  was 
allowed  to  control  the  publication,  appears  from  his 
letters  to  Calvo;  and  he  confided  the  literary  part  of 
the  business  to  Albicante.  His  threats  to  Calvo  have 
reference  to  Berni's  heresy,  and  the  mcddicentia  may 
possibly  have  been  the  eighteen  stanzas  addressed  to 
Sanga.  The  terror  of  the  Inquisition  reduced  Berni's 
friends  to  silence.  Aretino,  even  if  he  had  not  de- 
nounced Berni  to  the  Church,  had  now  identified  him- 
self with  the  crusade  against  his  poem,  and  he  was 
capable  of  ruining  opponents  in  this  unequal  contest 
by  charges  they  would  have  found  it  impossible  to 
refute.  The  eighteen  stanzas  were  addressed  to  a 
secretary  of  Clement  VII.  ?  and  men  of  note  like 
Molza,  Flamminio,  Navagero,  Fondulo,  Fregoso,  were 
distinctly  named  in  them.  If,  then,  there  is  any 

'  This  appears  from  a  reference  in  Aretino's  second  letter  to  Calvo, 
where  he  talks  of  Berni's  "friends  and  relatives."  It  might  be  going 
too  far  to  suggest  that  Berni  was  murdered  by  his  ecclesiastical  ene- 
mies, who  feared  the  scandal  which  would  be  caused  by  the  publication 
of  his  opinions.  *. 

8  Vergerio  may  have  communicated  the  eighteen  stanzas  to  Aretino; 
or  conversely  he  may  have  received  them  from  him.  I  have  read 
through  the  letters  exchanged  between  him  and  Aretino — and  they  are 
numerous — without,  however,  finding  any  passage  that  throws  light  on 
this  transaction.  Aretino  published  both  series  of  letters.  He  had 
therefore  opportunity  to  suppress  inconvenient  allusions. 


BERNPS  LUTHERANISM.  381 

cogency  in  the  conclusions  I  have  drawn  from  various 
sources,  Berni's  poem,  and  perhaps  his  life,  was  sacri- 
ficed to  theological  hatred  in  combination  with  Are- 
tino's  personal  malice.  The  unaccountable  inactivity 
of  his  friends  is  explained  by  their  dread  of  beino- 
entangled  in  a  charge  of  heresy.1 

Enough  has  been  already  said  about  Berni's  imi- 
tators in  the  burlesque  style.  Of  satire  in  the  strict 
sense  of  the  term,  the  poets  of  the  sixteenth  century 
produced  nothing  that  is  worth  consideration.  The 
epistolary  form  introduced  by  Ariosto,  and  the  comic 
caprices  rendered  fashionable  by  Berni,  determined 
the  compositions  of  Pietro  Aretino,  of  Ercole  Benti- 
voglio,  of  Luigi  Alamanni,  of  Antonio  Vinciguerra, 
of  Giovanni  Andrea  dell'  Anguillara,  of  Cesare 
Caporali,  and  of  the  minor  versifiers  whose  occasional 
poems  in  terza  rima,  seasoned  with  more  or  less 
satirical  intention,  are  usually  reckoned  among  the 
satires  of  the  golden  age.2  Personal  vituperation 
poured  forth  in  the  heat  of  literary  quarrels,  scarcely 
deserves  the  name  of  satire.  Else  it  might  be 
necessary  in  this  place  to  mention  Niccolo  Franco's 
sonnets  on  Pietro  Aretino,  or  the  far  more  elegant 
compositions  of  Annibale  Caro  directed  against  his 

1  We  may  note  the  dates  and  fates  of  the  chief  actors  in  this  tragedy. 
Broccardo  died  of  grief  in  1531.     Berni  died,  under  suspicion  of  poison, 
in  1535.    Cardinal  Ippolito  de'  Medici  was  poisoned  a  few  months  later, 
in  1535.     Alessandro  de'  Medici  was  murdered  by  Lorenzino  in  1537. 
Pietro  Paolo  Vergerio  was  deprived  of  his  see  and  accused  of  heresy  in 
1544.    Berni's  old  friend,  the  author  of  //  Forno,  M.  La  Casa,  conducted 
his  trial,  as  Papal  Nuncio  at  Venice.     Aretino,  who  had  assumed  the 
part  of  inquisitor  and  mutilator  to  gratify  his  private  spite,  survived 
triumphant. 

2  See  the  Raccolta  di  Poesie  Satiriche.  Milano.  1808. 


382  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

enemy  Castelvetro.1  Models  for  this  species  of  poetical 
abuse  had  been  already  furnished  by  the  sonnets  ex- 
changed between  Luigi  Pulci  and  Matteo  Franco  in  a 
more  masculine  age  of  Italian  literature.2  It  is  not, 
however,  incumbent  upon  the  historian  to  resuscitate 
the  memory  of  those  forgotten  and  now  unimportant 
duels.  The  present  allusion  to  them  may  suffice  to 
corroborate  the  opinion  already  stated  that,  while  the 
Italians  of  the  Renaissance  were  ingenious  in  burlesque, 
and  virulent  in  personal  invective,  they  lacked  the 
earnestness  of  moral  conviction,  the  indignation,  and 
the  philosophic  force  that  generate  real  satire. 

>  See,  for  the  latter  series,  Poesie  Satiriche,  pp.  138-156. 
8  See  Sonetti  di  Matteo  Franco  e  di  Luigi  Pulci,  1759.    Cp.  above, 
Part  i.  p.  431. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

PIETRO     ARETINO. 

Aretino's  Place  in  Italian  Literature  and  Society — His  Birth  and  Boy- 
hood— Goes  to  Rome — In  the  Service  of  Agostino  Chigi — At  Man- 
tua—  Gradual  Emergence  into  Celebrity  —  The  Incident  of  Giulio 
Romano's  Postures — Giovanni  delle  Bande  Nere — Aretino  settles  at 
Venice — The  Mystery  of  his  Influence — Discerns  the  Power  of  the 
Press — Satire  on  the  Courts — Magnificent  Life — Aretino's  Wealth — 
His  Tributary  Princes — Bullying  and  Flattery — The  Divine  Aretino 
• — His  Letter  to  Vittoria  Colonna — To  Michelangelo — His  Admiration 
of  Artists  —  Relations  with  Men  of  Letters  —  Epistle  to  Bernardo 
Tasso — His  Lack  of  Learning — Disengagement  from  Puristic  Preju- 
dices— Belief  in  his  own  Powers — Rapidity  of  Composition — His 
Style — Originality  and  Independence — Prologue  to  Talanta — Bohe- 
mian Comrades  —  Niccolo  Franco — Quarrel  with  Doni  —  Aretino's 
Literary  Influence — His  Death — The  Anomaly  of  the  Renaissance — 
Estimate  of  Aretino's  Character. 

PIETRO  ARETINO,  as  I  have  already  had  occasion  to 
observe,  is  a  representative  name  in  the  history  of 
Italian  literature.  It  is  almost  as  impossible  to  slur 
him  over  with  a  passing  notice  as  it  would  be  to  dwell 
but  casually  upon  Machiavelli  or  Ariosto,  Cellini  or 
Poliziano,  in  reviewing  the  Renaissance.  Base  in 
character,  coarse  in  mental  fiber,  unworthy  to  rank 
among  real  artists,  notwithstanding  his  undoubted 
genius,  Aretino  was  the  typical  rufHan  of  an  age  which 
brought  ruffianism  to  perfection,  welcomed  it  when 
successful,  bowed  to  its  insolence,  and  viewed  it  with 
complacent  toleration  in  the  highest  places  of  Church, 
State,  and  letters.  He  was  the  condottiere  of  the  pen 


384  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

in  a  society  which  truckled  to  the  Borgias.  He  em- 
bodied the  infamy  and  cowardice  which  lurked  beneath 
the  braveries  of  Italian  Court-life — the  coarseness  of 
speech  which  contradicted  literary  purism — the  cynicism 
and  gross  strength  of  appetite  for  which  convention 
was  a  flimsy  veil.1  The  man  himself  incarnated  the 
dissolution  of  Italian  culture.  His  works,  for  the  stu- 
dent of  that  period,  are  an  anti-mask  to  the  brilliant 
display  of  Ariosto's  or  of  Tasso's  puppets.  It  is  the 
condemnation  of  Italy  that  we  are  forced  to  give  this 
prominence  to  Aretino.  If  we  place  Poliziano  or 
Guicciardini,  Bembo  or  La  Casa,  Bandello  or  Firenz- 
uola,  Cellini  or  Berni,  Paolo  Giovio  or  Lodovico 
Dolce — typical  men  of  letters  chosen  from  the  poets, 
journalists,  historians,  thinkers,  artists,  novel-writers  of 
the  age — under  the  critical  microscope,  we  find  in  each 
and  all  of  them  a  tincture  of  Aretino.  It  is  because  he 
emphasizes  and  brings  into  relief  one  master  element 
of  the  Renaissance,  that  he  deserves  the  rank  assigned 
to  him.  In  Athens  Aristophanes  is  named  together 
with  Sophocles,  Thucydides  and  Plato,  because,  with 
genius  equal  to  theirs,  he  represented  the  comic  anti- 
thesis to  tragedy,  philosophy  and  history.  In  Italy 
Aretino  is  classed  with  Machiavelli  and  Ariosto  for 
a  different  reason.  His  lower  nature  expressed,  not 
an  antithesis,  but  a  quality,  which,  in  spite  of  intellec- 
tual and  moral  superiority,  they  possessed  in  common 

>  The  best  source  of  information  regarding  Pietro  Aretino  is  his  own 
correspondence  published  in  six  volumes  (Paris,  1609),  and  the  two  vol- 
umes of  letters  written  to  him  by  eminent  personages,  which  are  indeed 
a  rich  mine  of  details  regarding  Italian  society  and  manners  in  the  six- 
teenth century.  Mazzuchelli's  Vita  di  Pietro  Aretino  (Padua,  1741)  is 
a  conscientious,  sober,  and  laborious  piece  of  work,  on  which  all  subse- 
quent notices  have  been  based. 


ARETINVS   PLACE    IN  LITERATURE.  385 

with  him,  which  he  exhibited  in  arrogant  abundance, 
and  which  cannot  be  omitted  from  the  survey  of  his  cen- 
tury. The  alloy  of  cynicism  in  Machiavelli,  his  sordid 
private  pleasures,  his  perverse  admiration  for  Cesare 
Borgia,  his  failure  to  recognize  the  power  of  goodness  in 
the  world,  condemn  him  to  the  company  of  this  triumvir. 
The  profligacy  of  genius  in  Ariosto,  his  waste  of  divine 
gifts  upon  trifles,  his  lack  of  noble  sentiment,  his  easy 
acquiescence  in  conditions  of  society  against  which  he 
should  have  uttered  powerful  protest,  consign  him, 
however  undeservedly,  to  the  same  association.1 

Pietro  was  born  at  Arezzo  in  1492.  His  reputed 
father  was  a  nobleman  of  that  city,  named  Luigi  Bacci. 
His  mother,  Tita,  was  a  woman  of  the  town,  whose 
portrait,  painted  as  the  Virgin  of  the  Annunciation, 
adorned  the  church-door  of  S.  Pietro.  The  boy, 
"  born,"  as  he  afterwards  boasted,  "  in  a  hospital  with 
the  spirit  of  a  king,"  passed  his  childhood  at  Arezzo 
with  his  mother.  He  had  no  education  but  what  he 
may  have  picked  up  among  the  men  who  frequented 
Tita's  house,  or  the  artists  who  employed  her  as  a 
model.  Of  Greek  and  Latin  he  learned  nothing 
either  now  or  afterwards.  Before  growing  to  man's 
estate,  he  had  to  quit  his  native  city — according  to  one 
account  because  he  composed  and  uttered  a  ribald 
sonnet  on  indulgences,  according  to  another  because 
he  robbed  his  mother.  He  escaped  to  Perugia,  and 
gained  his  livelihood  by  binding  books.  Here  he  made 
acquaintance  with  Firenzuola,  as  appears  from  a  letter 

i  It  may  be  mentioned  that  Ariosto  has  immortalized  this  bully  in  the 
Orlando  (xlvi.  14),  among  the  most  illustrious  men  and  women  of  his  age: 

ecco  il  flagello 
De'  principi,  il  divin  Pietro  Aretino. 


386  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

of  the  year  1641,  in  which  he  alludes  to  their  youthful 
pranks  together  at  the  University.  One  of  Aretino's 
exploits  at  Perugia  became  famous.  "  Having  noticed 
in  a  place  of  much  resort  upon  the  public  square  a 
picture,  in  which  the  Magdalen  was  represented  at  the 
feet  of  Christ,  with  extended  arms  and  in  an  attitude 
of  passionate  grief,  he  went  privily  and  painted  in  a  lute 
between  her  hands."  From  Perugia  he  trudged  on  foot 
to  Rome,  and  entered  the  service  of  Agostino  Chigi, 
under  whose  patronage  he  made  himself  useful  to  the 
Medici,  remaining  in  the  retinue  of  both  Leo  X.  and 
Clement  VII.  between  i5i7  and  1624.  This  period 
of  seven  years  formed  the  man's  character;  and  it 
would  be  interesting  to  know  for  certain  what  his  em- 
ployment was.  Judging  by  the  graphic  descriptions 
he  has  left  us  of  the  Roman  Court  in  his  comedy  of  the 
Cortigiana  and  his  dialogue  De  le  Corti,  and  also  by 
his  humble  condition  in  Perugia,  we  have  reason  to 
believe  that  he  occupied  at  first  the  post  of  lackey, 
rising  gradually  by  flattery  and  baser  arts  to  the  position 
of  a  confidential  domestic,  half  favorite,  half  servant.1 

1  Aretino's  comedies,  letters,  and  occasional  poems  are  our  best 
sources  for  acquaintance  with  the  actual  conditions  of  palace-life.  The 
Dialogo  de  le  Corti  opens  with  a  truly  terrible  description  of  the  de- 
bauchery and  degradation  to  which  a  youth  was  exposed  on  his  first 
entrance  into  the  service  of  a  Roman  noble.  It  may  have  been  drawn 
from  the  author's  own  experience.  The  nauseous  picture  of  the  tinello, 
or  upper-servants'  hall,  which  occurs  in  the  comedy  Cortigiana  (act  v. 
sc.  15),  proves  intimate  familiarity  with  the  most  revolting  details  of 
domestic  drudgery.  The  dirt  of  these  places  made  an  ineffaceable  im- 
pression on  Aretino's  memory.  In  his  burlesque  Orlandino,  when  he 
wishes  to  call  up  a  disgusting  image,  he  writes: 
Odorava  la  sala  come  odora 

Un  gran  tinel  d'  un  Monsignor  Francese, 
O  come  quel  d'  un  Cardinal  ancora 
Quando  Febo  riscalda  un  bestial  mese. 


EARLY  LIFE.  387 

That  he  possessed  extraordinary  social  qualities,  and 
knew  how  to  render  himself  agreeable  by  witty  conver- 
sation and  boon  companionship,  is  obvious  from  the 
whole  course  of  his  subsequent  history.  It  is  no  less 
certain  that  he  allowed  neither  honor  nor  self-respect 
to  interfere  with  his  advancement  by  means  which 
cannot  be  described  in  detail,  but  which  opened  the 
readiest  way  to  favor  in  that  profligate  society  of 
Rome.  His  own  enormous  appetite  for  sensual  en- 
joyment, his  cynicism,  and  his  familiarity  with  low 
life  in  all  its  forms,  rendered  him  the  congenial  asso- 
ciate of  a  great  man's  secret  pleasures,  the  convenient 
link  of  communication  between  the  palace  and  the 
stews.1 

Yet  though  Pietro  resided  at  this  time  principally 
in  Rome,  he  had  by  no  means  a  fixed  occupation,  and 
his  life  was  interrupted  by  frequent  wanderings.  He 
is  said  to  have  left  Agostino  Chigi's  service,  because 
he  stole  a  silver  cup.  He  is  also  said  to  have  taken 
the  cowl  in  a  Capuchin  convent  at  Ravenna,  and  to 
have  thrown  his  frock  to  the  nettles  on  the  occasion  of 
Leo's  election  to  the  Papacy.  We  hear  of  him  parad- 
ing in  the  Courts  of  Lombardy,  always  on  the  look- 
out for  patronage,  supporting  himself  by  what  means 

1  Aretino's  correspondence  and  the  comedy  above  mentioned  throw 
sufficient  light  upon  these  features  of  Roman  society.  It  will,  for  the 
rest,  suffice  to  quote  a  passage  from  Monsignore  Guidiccioni's  letter  to 
Giambattista  Bernardi  (Opere  di  M.  Giov.  Guidiccioni,  Barbera,  1867, 
vol.  i.  p.  195):  "Non  solamente  da  questi  illustri  per  ricchezze  non  si 
puo  avere,  ma  non  si  puote  ancora  sperare  premio  che  sia  di  lunghe 
fatiche  o  di  rischio  di  morte,  se  /'  uomo  non  si  rivolge  ad  acquistarlo  per 
vie  disoneste.  Perciocche  essi  non  carezzano  e  non  esaltano  se  non  adula- 
tori,  e  quelli  eke  sanno per  alfabeto  le  abitazioni,  le  pratiche  e  le  quahtd 
delle  cortigiane."  The  whole  letter  should  be  read  by  those  who  would 
understand  Roman  society  of  the  Renaissance.  The  italics  are  mine. 


388  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

is  unapparent,  but  gradually  pushing  his  way  to  fame 
and  fashion,  loudly  asserting  his  own  claims  to  notice, 
and  boasting  of  each  new  favor  he  received.  Here 
is  a  characteristic  glimpse  into  his  nomadic  mode  of 
life1:  "I  am  now  in  Mantua  with  the  Marquis,  and 
am  held  by  him  in  so  high  favor  that  he  leaves  off 
sleeping  and  eating  to  converse  with  me,  and  says  he 
has  no  other  pleasure  in  life;  and  he  has  written  to 
the  Cardinal  about  me  things  that  will  not  fail  to  help 
me  greatly  to  my  credit.  I  have  also  received  a  pres- 
ent of  300  crowns.  He  has  assigned  to  me  the  very 
same  apartment  which  Francesco  Maria,  Duke  of 
Urbino,  occupied  when  he  was  in  exile ;  and  has  ap- 
pointed a  steward  to  preside  over  my  table,  where  I 
always  have  some  noblemen  of  rank.  In  a  word,  more 
could  not  be  done  for  the  entertainment  of  the  greatest 
prince.  Besides,  the  whole  Court  worships  me.  Happy 
are  they  who  can  boast  of  having  got  a  verse  from  me. 
My  lord  has  had  all  the  poems  ever  writ  by  me  copied, 
and  I  have  made  some  in  his  praise.  So  I  pass  my 
life  here,  and  every  day  get  some  gift,  grand  things 
which  you  shall  see  at  Arezzo.  But  it  was  at  Bologna 
they  began  to  make  me  presents.  The  Bishop  of  Pisa 
had  a  robe  of  black  satin  embroidered  with  gold  cut 
for  me ;  nothing  could  be  handsomer.  So  I  came  like 
a  prince  to  Mantua.  Everybody  calls  me  '  Messere ' 
and  '  Signore.'  I  think  this  Easter  we  shall  be  at 
Loreto,  where  the  Marquis  goes  to  perform  a  vow; 
and  on  this  journey  I  shall  be  able  to  satisfy  the  Dukes 

1  Quoted  by  Philarete  Chasles  from  Gamurrini,  1st.  Gen.  delle  fa- 
miglie  nobili  Toscane  ed  Umbre,  iii.  332.  I  do  not  know  exactly  to  what 
period  the  letter  refers. 


ENTRANCE    INTO    COURTS.  389 

of  Ferrara  and  Urbino,  both  of  whom  have  expressed 
the  desire  to  make  my  acquaintance." 

On  the  election  of  Clement  VII.,  Pietro  returned 
to  Rome  with  a  complimentary  sonnet  in  his  pocket 
for  the  new  Pope.  He  had  now  acquired  an  Italian 
reputation,  and  was  able  to  keep  the  state  of  an  in- 
dependent gentleman,  surrounded  by  a  band  of  dis- 
reputable hangers-on,  the  bardassonacci,  paggi  da 
taverna,  of  Berni's  satirical  sonnet.  But  a  misfor- 
tune obliged  him  suddenly  to  decamp.  Giulio  Ro- 
mano had  designed  a  series  of  obscene  figures, 
which  Marcantonio  Raimondi  engraved,  and  Aretino 
illustrated  by  sixteen  sonnets,  describing  and  com- 
menting upon  the  lewdness  of  each  picture.  Put  in 
circulation,  these  works  of  immodest  art  roused  the 
indignation  of  the  Roman  prelates,  who,  though  they 
complacently  listened  to  Berni's  Pesche  or  La  Casa's 
Forno  behind  the  closed  doors  of  a  literary  club,  dis- 
liked the  scandal  of  publicity.  Raimondi  was  im- 
prisoned; Giulio  Romano  went  in  the  service  of  the 
Marquis  of  Mantua  to  build  the  famous  Palazzo  del  Te ; 
and  Aretino  discreetly  retired  from  Rome  for  a  season. 
Of  the  three  accomplices  in  this  act  of  high  treason 
against  art,  Aretino  was  undoubtedly  the  guiltiest. 
Yet  he  had  the  impudence  to  defend  his  sonnets  in 
1637,  and  to  address  them  with  a  letter  of  dedication, 
unmatched  for  its  parade  of  shamelessness,  to  Messer 
Battista  Zatti  of  Brescia.1  In  this  epistle  he  takes 
credit  to  himself  for  having  procured  the  engraver's 
pardon  and  liberation  from  Clement  VII.  However 
this  may  be,  he  fell  in  1624  under  the  special  ban  of 

i  Lettere,  vol.  i.  p.  258. 


39C  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Monsignor  Giberti's  displeasure,  and  had  to  take  re- 
fuge with  Giovanni  de'  Medici  delle  Bande  Nere.1 
This  famous  general  was  a  wild  free-liver.  He  con- 
ceived a  real  affection  for  Aretino,  made  him  the  sharer 
in  his  debaucheries,  gave  him  a  place  even  in  his  own 
bed,  and  listened  with  rapture  to  his  indecent  impro- 
visations. Aretino's  fortune  was  secured.  It  was  dis- 
covered that  he  had  the  art  of  pleasing  princes.  He 
knew  exactly  how  to  season  his  servility  with  freedom, 
how  to  flatter  the  great  man  by  pandering  to  his  pas- 
sions and  tickling  his  vanity,  while  he  added  the  pun- 
gent sauce  of  satire  and  affected  bluntness.  II  gran 
Diavolo,  as  Giovanni  de'  Medici  was  called,  intro- 
duced Aretino  to  Francis  I.,  and  promised,  if  fortune 
favored  him,  to  make  the  adventurer  master  of  his 
native  town,  Arezzo.2 

Aretino's  intercourse  with  these  powerful  protec- 
tors was  broken  by  a  short  visit  to  Rome,  where  he 
seems  to  have  made  peace  with  the  prelates.  It  was 
probably  inconvenient  to  protract  hostilities  against  a 
man  who  had  gained  the  friendship  of  a  King  of 
France  and  of  the  greatest  Italian  condottiere  of  his 
age.  But  fortune  had  ceased  to  smile  on  our  hero  in 

'  It  may  be  remembered  that  Giberti,  Bishop  of  Verona,  was  Berni's 
patron.  This  helps  to  account  for  the  animosity  between  Berni  and 
Aretino. 

*  Op.  Burl.  ii.  p.  ii : 

Sotto  Milano  dieci  volte,  non  ch'  una, 
Mi  disse:  Pietro,  se  di  questa  guerra 
Mi  scam  pa  Dio  e*la  buona  fortuna, 
Ti  voglio  impadronir  della  tua  terra. 

Giovanni  de'  Medici  wrote  to  him  thus:  "  Vieni  presto  ...  II  re  a  buon 
proposito  si  dolse  che  non  ti  aveva  menato  al  solito,  onde  io  diedi  la 
colpa  al  piacerti  piu  lo  stare  in  Corte  che  in  Campo  .  .  .  non  so  vivere 
senza  1'  Aretino." — Lettere  scritte  all'  Aretino,  \.  6. 


GIOVANNI  DP    MEDICPS   PATRONAGE.  391 

Rome.  It  so  happened  that  he  wrote  a  ribald  sonnet 
on  a  scullion-wench  in  the  service  of  Monsignor  Giberti, 
to  whom  a  certain  Achille  della  Volta  was  at  the  same 
time  paying  his  addresses.  The  bravo  avenged  this 
insult  to  his  mistress  by  waylaying  Aretino  in  the 
Trastevere  and  stabbing  him  several  times  in  the  breast 
and  hands.  When  Aretino  recovered  from  his  wounds, 
he  endeavored  in  vain  to  get  justice  against  Achille. 
The  Pope  and  his  Datary  refused  to  interfere  in  this 
ignoble  quarrel.  Aretino  once  more  retired  from 
Rome,  vowing  vengeance  against  Clement,  whom  he 
defamed  to  the  best  of  his  ability  in  scurrilous  libels 
and  calumnious  conversation.1 

He  now  remained  with  Giovanni  de'  Medici  until 
that  general's  death  in  i526.  The  great  captain  died  in 
Aretino's  arms  at  Mantua  from  the  effect  of  a  wound 
inflicted  by  an  unknown  harquebuss  in  Frundsperg's 
army.2  This  accident  decided  Aretino  to  place  no 
further  reliance  on  princely  patronage.  He  was 
thirty-two  years  of  age,  and  had  acquired  a  singular 
reputation  throughout  Italy  for  social  humor,  pun- 
gent wit  and  literary  ability.  Though  deficient  in 
personal  courage,  as  the  affair  of  Achille  della  Volta 
proved,  he  contrived  to  render  himself  formidable  by 
reckless  evil-speaking;  and  while  he  had  no  learning 
and  no  style,  he  managed  to  pass  for  a  writer  of  dis- 
tinction. How  he  attained  this  position  in  an  age  of 

1  The  sonnet  by  Berni  quoted  above,  p.  371,  was  written  to  meet 
these  libels  of  Aretino.     It  contains  an  allusion  to  Achille  della  Volta's 
poignard. 

2  See  Aretino's  Letters,  vol.  i.  pp.  8,  10,  for  very  interesting  details 
concerning  the  death  of  Giovanni  de'  Medici.     He  here  used  the  inter- 
est of  his  old  master  to  secure  the  favor  of  Duke  Cosimo. 


392  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY, 

purists,  remains  a  puzzle;  we  possess  nothing  which 
explains  the  importance  attached  to  his  compositions 
at  this  early  period.  His  sonnets  had  made  what  the 
French  call  a  success  of  scandal;  and  the  libertines 
who  protected  him,  were  less  particular  about  literary 
elegance  than  eager  to  be  amused.  If  we  inquire 
minutely  into  the  circumstances  of  Aretino's  career,  we 
find  that  he  had  worked  himself  into  favor  with  a  set 
of  princes — the  Marquis  of  Mantua,  the  Dukes  of 
Ferrara  and  Urbino,  Giovanni  de'  Medici,  and  the 
King  of  France — who  were  powerful  enough  to  confer 
fashion  upon  an  adventurer,  and  to  place  him  in  a 
position  where  it  would  be  perilous  to  contest  his 
claims,  but  who  were  not  eminent  for  literary  taste. 
In  the  Court  of  the  two  Medici  at  Rome,  who  exacted 
more  scholarship  and  refinement  than  Aretino  pos- 
sessed, he  never  gained  firm  footing;  and  this  was  per- 
haps the  chief  reason  of  his  animosity  against  Clement. 
He  had  in  fact  become  the  foremost  parasite,  the  wit- 
tiest and  most  brilliant  companion  of  debauch,  in  the 
less  cultivated  Italian  Courts.  This  reputation  he  now 
resolved  to  use  for  his  own  profit.  From  the  moment 
when  he  retired  to  Venice  in  1627,  resolved  to  support 
himself  by  literary  work,  until  his  death,  in  155;,  he 
enjoyed  a  princely  income,  levying  tribute  on  kings 
and  nobles,  living  with  prodigal  magnificence,  corre- 
sponding with  the  most  illustrious  men  of  all  nations, 
and  dictating  his  own  terms  to  the  society  he  alter- 
nately flattered  and  insulted.  The  history  of  these 
last  thirty  years,  which  may  be  clearly  read  in  the  six 
bulky  volumes  of  his  published  correspondence,  and 
in  the  four  volumes  of  letters  written  to  him,  is  one 


SETTLEMENT  AT    VENICE. 


393 


of  the  most  extraordinary  instances  on  record  of  cele- 
brity and  power  acquired  by  calculated  imposture  and 
audacious  brigandism.1 

Aretino  showed  prudence  in  the  choice  of  Venice 
for  his  fixed  abode.  In  Venice  there  was  greater 
liberty  both  of  life  and  speech  than  elsewhere  at  that 
time  in  Italy.  So  long  as  a  man  refrained  from  poli- 
tics and  offered  no  cause  of  suspicion  to  the  State,  he 
might  do  and  publish  pretty  much  what  he  chose, 
without  fear  of  interference  and  without  any  serious 
peril  from  the  Inquisition.  For  a  filibuster  of  Aretino's 
type,  Venice  offered  precisely  the  most  advantageous 
harbor,  whence  he  could  make  sallies  and  predatory 
excursions,  and  whither  he  might  always  return  to  rest 
at  ease  beneath  the  rampart  of  a  proud  political  indif- 
ference. His  greatness  consisted  in  the  accurate 
measure  he  had  taken  of  the  society  upon  which  he 
now  intended  to  live  by  literary  speculation.  His 
acute  common  sense  enabled  him  to  comprehend  the 
power  of  the  press,  which  had  not  as  yet  been  deliber- 
ately used  as  a  weapon  of  offense  and  an  instrument 
of  extortion.  We  have  seen  in  another  portion  of 
this  book  how  important  a  branch  of  literature  the 
invectives  of  the  humanists  had  been,  how  widely  they 
were  read,  and  what  an  impression  they  produced 
upon  society.  The  diatribes  of  Poggio  and  Filelfo 
circulated  in  manuscript;  but  now  the  press  was  in 
full  working  order,  and  Aretino  perceived  that  he 

1  The  edition  of  Aretino's  own  letters  which  I  shall  use  is  that  of 
Paris,  1609,  in  six  books.  The  edition  of  the  Letter e  scritte  air  Areti- 
no is  Romagnoli's  reprint,  Scelta  di  Curiositd,  Bologna,  1873-1876, 
Dispensa  cxxxii.,  two  books  divided  into  four  volumes;  to  these,  for  con- 
venience sake,  I  shall  refer  as  i,  2,  3,  4. 


394  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

might  make  a  livelihood  by  printing  threats  and 
libels  mixed  with  eulogies  and  personal  panegyrics. 
The  unwieldy  three-decker  of  the  invective  should  be 
reduced  to  the  manageable  form  of  the  epistolary 
torpedo  and  gunboat.  To  propagate  calumnies  and 
to  render  them  imperishable  by  printing  was  the 
menace  he  addressed  to  society.  He  calculated  wisely 
on  the  uneasiness  which  the  occasional  appearance  of 
stinging  pamphlets,  fully  charged  with  personalities, 
would  produce  among  the  Italians,  who  were  nothing 
if  not  a  nation  of  readers  at  this  epoch.  At  the  same 
time  he  took  measures  to  secure  his  own  safety.  Pro- 
fessing himself  a  good  Christian,  he  liberally  seasoned 
his  compositions  with  sacred  names;  and,  though  he 
had  no  more  real  religion  than  Fra  Timoteo  in  Machia- 
velli's  Mandragola  he  published  pious  romances  under 
the  titles  of  /  tre  libri  della  Humanifa  di  Christo,  I 
Sette  Salmi  de  la  penitentia  di  David,  H  Genesi  di 
Pietro  Aretino,  La  Vita  di  Catherina  Vergine,  La 
Vita  di  Maria  Vergine,  La  Vita  di  S.  Tommaso  Signor 
d'  Aquino.  These  books,  proceeding  from  the  same 
pen  as  the  Sonctti  lussuriosi  and  the  pornographic 
Ragionamenti,  were  an  insult  to  piety.  Still  they 
served  their  author  for  a  shield,  behind  which  he 
shot  the  arrows  of  his  calumnies,  and  carried  on  the 
more  congenial  game  of  making  money  by  pandering 
to  the  licentiousness  or  working  on  the  cowardice 
of  the  wealthy.1 

Aretino,  who  was  able»to  boast  that  he  had  just 

'  It  is  clear  from  a  perusal  of  the  Lettere  all'  Aretino  that  his  repu- 
tation depended  in  a  great  measure  upon  these  pious  romances.  The 
panegyrics  heaped  on  them  are  too  lengthy  and  too  copious  to  be  quoted. 
They  are  curiously  mixed  with  no  less  fervent  praises  of  the  Dialoghi. 


A    LITERARY  FREE   LANCE. 


395 


refused  a  flattering  invitation  from  the  Marquis  of 
Montferrat,  was  received  with  honor  by  the  State  of 
Venice.  Soon  after  his  arrival  he  wrote  thus  to  the 
Doge  Andrea  Gritti1:  "I,  who,  in  the  liberty  of  so 
great  and  virtuous  a  commonwealth,  have  now  learned 
what  it  is  to  be  free,  reject  Courts  henceforth  for  ever, 
and  here  make  my  abiding  tabernacle  for  the  years 
that  yet  remain  to  me ;  for  here  there  is  no  place  for 
treason,  here  favor  cannot  injure  right,  here  the 
cruelty  of  prostitutes  exerts  no  sway,  here  the  insolence 
of  the  effeminate  is  powerless  to  command,  here  there 
is  no  robbing,  no  violence  to  the  person,  no  assassina- 
tion. Wherefore  I,  who  have  stricken  terror  into 
kings,  I,  who  have  restored  confidence  to  virtuous 
men,  give  myself  to  you,  fathers  of  your  people, 
brothers  of  your  servants,  sons  of  truth,  friends  of 
virtue,  companions  of  the  stranger,  pillars  of  religion, 
observers  of  your  word,  executors  of  justice,  treasuries 
of  charity,  and  subjects  of  clemency."  Then  follows 
a  long  tirade  in  the  same  stilted  style  upon  the  majesty 
of  Venice.  The  Doge  took  Aretino  by  the  hand, 
reconciled  him  with  Clement  and  the  Bishop  of  Verona, 
and  assured  him  of  protection,  so  long  as  the  illustrious 
author  chose  to  make  the  city  of  the  lagoons  his  home. 
Luigi  Gritti,  the  Doge's  son,  assigned  him  a  pension; 
and  though  invitations  came  from  foreign  Courts, 
Aretino  made  his  mind  up  to  remain  at  Venice.  He 
knew  that  the  very  singularity  of  his  resolve,  in  an 
age  when  men  of  letters  sought  the  patronage  of 
princely  houses,  would  enable  him  to  play  the  game 
he  had  in  view.  Nor  could  he  forget  the  degradation 

i  Letlere,  vol.  i.  p.  3. 


396  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

he  had  previously  undergone  in  courtly  service. 
"  Only  let  me  draw  breath  outside  that  hell !  Ah ! 
your  Court!  your  Court!  To  my  mind  a  gondolier 
here  is  better  off  than  a  chamberlain  there.  Look 
you  at  yonder  poor  waiting  man,  tortured  by  the  cold, 
consumed  by  the  heat,  standing  at  his  master's 
pleasure — where  is  the  fire  to  warm  him  ?  where  is  the 
water  to  refresh  him?  When  he  fells  ill,  what 
chamber,  what  stable,  what  hospital  will  take  him  in  ? 
Rain,  snow,  mud !  Faugh,  it  murders  a  man  to  ride 
in  such  weather  with  his  patron  or  upon  his  errands. 
Think  how  cruel  it  is  to  have  to  show  a  beard  grown 
in  the  service  of  mere  boys,  how  abject  are  white 
hairs,  when  youth  and  manhood  have  been  spent  in 
idling  around  tables,  antechamber  doors,  and  privies  ? 
Here  I  sit  when  I  am  tired ;  when  I  am  hungry,  eat ; 
when  I  feel  the  inclination,  sleep;  and  all  the  hours 
are  obedient  to  my  will."  1  He  revels  in  the  sense  of 
his  own  freedom.  "  My  sincerity,  and  my  virtue,  which 
never  could  stomach  the  lies  that  bolster  up  the  Court 
of  Rome,  nor  the  vices  that  reign  in  it,  have  found 
favor  in  the  eyes  of  all  the  princes  of  the  world. 
Emperors,  thank  God,  are  not  Popes,  nor  Kings  Car- 
dinals !  Therefore  I  enjoy  their  generosity,  instead 
of  courting  that  hypocrisy  of  priests,  which  acts  the 
bawd  and  pander  to  our  souls.  Look  at  Chieti,  the 
parasite  of  penitence !  Look  at  Verona,  the  buffoon 
of  piety !  They  at  least  have  solved  the  doubts  in 
which  their  ambitious  dissimulation  held  those  who 
believed  that  the  one  would  not  accept  the  hat,  and  the 

1  Lettere,  i.  204. 


INDEPENDENCE    AND    FAME. 


397 


other  was  not  scheming  for  it.  I  meanwhile  praise 
God  for  being  what  I  am.  The  hatred  of  slaves,  the 
rancors  of  ambition  no  longer  hem  me  round.  I  rob 
no  man's  time.  I  take  no  delight  in  seeing  my  neigh- 
bors go  naked  through  the  world.  Nay,  I  share 
with  them  the  very  shirts  off  my  back,  the  crust  of 
bread  upon  my  plate.  My  servant-girls  are  my 
daughters,  my  lackeys  are  my  brothers.  Peace  is  the 
pomp  of  my  chambers,  and  liberty  the  majordomo  of 
my  palace.  I  feast  daily  off  bread  and  gladness;  and, 
wishing  not  to  be  of  more  importance  than  I  am,  live 
by  the  sweat  of  my  ink,  the  luster  of  which  has  never 
been  extinguished  by  the  blasts  of  malignity  or  the 
mists  of  envy." l  At  another  time  he  breaks  into 
jubilant  descriptions  of  his  own  magnificence  and  popu- 
larity. "  I  swear  to  you  by  the  wings  of  Pegasus 
that,  much  as  may  have  reached  your  ears,  you  have 
not  heard  one  half  the  hymn  of  my  celebrity.  Medals 
are  coined  in  my  honor;  medals  of  gold,  of  silver,  of 
brass,  of  lead,  of  stucco.  My  features  are  carved 
along  the  fronts  of  palaces.  My  portrait  is  stamped 
upon  comb-cases,  engraved  on  mirror-handles,  painted 
on  majolica.  I  am  a  second  Alexander,  Caesar,  Scipio. 
Nay  more:  I  tell  you  that  some  kinds  of  glasses  they 
make  at  Murano,  are  called  Aretines.  Aretine  is  the 
name  given  to  a  breed  of  cobs — after  one  Pope  Cle- 
ment sent  me  and  I  gave  to  Duke  Frederick.  They 
have  christened  the  little  canal  that  runs  beside  my 
house  upon  the  Canalozzo,  Rio  Aretino.  And,  to  make 
the  pedants  burst  with  rage,  besides  talking  of  the 
Aretine  style,  three  wenches  of  my  household,  who 

i  Lcttere,  ii.  58. 


398  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

have  left  me  and  become  ladies,  will  have  themselves 
known  only  as  the  Aretines."  l 

These  self-congratulations  were  no  idle  vaunts. 
His  palace  on  the  Grand  Canal  was  crowded  with 
male  and  female  servants,  thronged  with  visitors, 
crammed  with  costly  works  of  art  and  presents  received 
from  every  part  of  Italy  and  Europe.  The  choicest 
wines  and  the  most  exquisite  viands — rare  birds,  deli- 
cate fruits,  and  vegetables  out  of  season — arrived  by 
special  messengers  to  furnish  forth  his  banquets.  Here 
he  kept  open  house,  enjoying  the  society  of  his  two 
bosom  friends,  Titian  and  Sansovino,  entertaining  the 
magnificent  Venetian  prostitutes,  and  welcoming  the 
men  of  fashion  or  of  learning  who  made  long  journeys 
to  visit  him.2  "  If  I  only  spent  in  composition  one 
third  of  the  time  I  fling  away,  the  printers  would  do 
nothing  but  attend  to  the  issuing  of  my  works.  And 
yet  I  could  not  write  so  much  if  I  would;  so  enormous 
is  the  multitude  which  comes  incessantly  to  see  me. 
I  am  often  forced  to  fly  from  my  own  house,  and  leave 
the  concourse  to  take  care  of  itself." 3  "  So  many  lords 
and  gentlemen  are  eternally  breaking  in  upon  me  with 
their  importunities,  that  my  stairs  are  worn  by  their 

'  Lettere,  iii.  145;  cp.  iii.  89.  The  whole  of  the  passage  translated 
above  is  an  abstract  of  a  letter  professedly  written  to  Aretino  by  Doni 
(Lett,  all'  Ar.  vol.  iv.  p.  395),  which  may  be  read  with  profit  as  an  in- 
stance of  flattery.  The  occurrence  of  the  same  phrases  in  both  series 
of  epistles  raises  a  doubt  whether  Aretino  did  not  tamper  with  the  text 
of  the  correspondence  he  published,  penning  panegyrics  of  himself  and 
printing  them  under  fictitious  names  as  advertisements.  Doni  was  a 
man  who  might  have  lent  himself  to  such  imposture  on  the  public. 

1  See  Letters  air  Ar.  vol.  iv.  p.  352,  for  a  vivid  description,  written 
by  Francesco  Marcolini,  of  Aretino's  train  of  living  and  prodigal  hos"- 
pitality.  It  realizes  the  vast  banqueting-pictures  of  Veronese. 

3  Lettere,  iii.  72. 


LEVYING    OF  BLACK-MAIL. 


399 


feet  like  the  Capitol  with  wheels  of  triumphal  chariots. 
Turks,  Jews,  Indians,  Frenchmen,  Germans,  Spaniards, 
flock  to  see  me.  You  can  fancy  how  many  Italians 
come!  I  say  nothing  about  the  common  folk.  You 
could  not  find  me  without  a  flock  of  friars  and  priests. 
I  have  come  to  be  the  Oracle  of  Truth,  the  Secretary 
of  the  Universe :  everybody  brings  me  the  tale  of  his 
injury  by  this  prince  or  that  prelate."1  This  sumptu- 
ous train  of  life  demanded  a  long  purse,  and  Aretino 
had  nothing  but  his  brains  to  live  by.  Yet,  by  the  sale 
of  his  books  and  the  contributions  levied  on  great  folk, 
he  accumulated  a  yearly  income  sufficient  to  his  needs. 
"  Thanks  to  their  Majesties  of  Spain  and  France,  with 
the  addition  of  a  hundred  crowns  of  pension  allowed  me 
by  the  Marquis  of  Vasto,  and  the  same  amount  paid 
by  the  Prince  of  Salerno,  I  have  six  hundred  crowns 
of  fixed  income,  besides  the  thousand  or  thereabouts  1 
make  yearly  with  a  quire  of  paper  and  a  bottle  of  ink." 2 
In  another  place  he  says  that  in  the  course  of  eighteen 
years  "the  alchemy  of  his  pen  had  drawn  over  twenty- 
five  thousand  crowns  from  the  entrails  of  various 
princes."3  It  was  computed  that,  during  his  lifetime, 
he  levied  blackmail  to  the  extent  of  about  70,000  crowns, 
or  considerably  more  than  a  million  of  francs,  with- 
out counting  his  strictly  professional  earnings.  All 
this  wealth  he  spent  as  soon  as  he  laid  hands  upon 
it,  boasting  loudly  of  his  prodigality,  as  though  it  were 
a  virtue.  He  dressed  splendidly,  and  denied  himself 

1  Lett  ere,  i.  206.     This  passage  occurs  also  in  a  letter  addressed  to 
Aretino  by  one  Alessandro  Andrea  (Lett,   all'  Ar.  vol.  iii.  p.   178); 
whence  Mazzuchelli  argues  that  Aretino  tampered  with  the  letters  writ- 
ten to  him,  and  interpolated  passages  before  he  sent  them  to  the  press. 
See  last  page,  note  i. 

2  Lettere,  ii.  213.  3  Lcttere,  iii.  70. 


400  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

no  sensual  indulgence.  His  house  contained  a  harem 
of  women,  devoted  to  his  personal  pleasures  and  those, 
apparently,  of  his  familiar  friends.  He  had  many 
illegitimate  daughters,  whom  he  dowered.  Moreover, 
he  was  liberal  to  poor  people ;  and  while  squandering 
money  first  upon  his  vices,  he  paid  due  attention  to  his 
reputation  for  generosity.1  The  bastard  of  Arezzo 
vaunted  he  had  been  born  in  a  hospital  with  the  soul  of 
a  king.2  '  Yet  he  understood  nothing  of  real  magnan- 
imity ;  his  charity  was  part  of  an  openhanded  reckless- 
ness, which  made  him  fling  the  goods  of  fortune  to  the 
wind  as  soon  as  gained — part  of  the  character  of 
grand  seigneur  he  aspired  to  assume.3 

It  would  fatigue  the  patience  of  the  reader  to  furnish 
forth  a  complete  list  of  the  presents  made  to  Aretino 
and  acknowledged  by  him  in  his  correspondence. 
Chains,  jewels,  horses,  pictures,  costly  stuffs,  cups, 
mirrors,  delicacies  of  the  table,  wines — nothing  came 
amiss  to  him ;  and  the  more  he  received,  the  more  he 
cried  continually,  give,  give,  give !  There  was  hardly 
a  reigning  prince  in  Europe,  hardly  a  noble  of  distinc- 
tion in  Italy,  who  had  not  sent  some  offering  to  his 
shrine.  The  Sultan  Soliman,  the  pirate  Barbarossa, 
the  Pope,  the  Emperor,  were  among  his  tributaries.4 
The  Empress  gave  him  a  golden  collar  worth  three 
hundred  crowns.  Philip,  Infante  of  Spain,  presented  him 
with  another  worth  four  hundred.  Francis  I.  bestowed 

1  See  Lettere,  ii.  257;  iii.  340;  •?.  251. 

•  See  the  Capitolo  al  Duca  di  Fiorenza. 

*  Marcolini's  letter  (Lettere  all'  Aretino,  vol.  iv.  p.  352),  and  some 
letters  from  obscure  scholars  (for  example,  ib.  vol.  ii.  pp.  118-121),  seem 
to  prove  that  he  was  really  openhanded  in  cases  of  distress. 

«  There  is  a  letter  from  Barbarossa  to  Aretino  in  the  Lettere  all'  Ar. 
vol.  iii.  p.  269. 


TRIBUTARY  PRINCES.  401 

on  him  a  still  more  costly  chain,  wrought  of  pure  gold, 
from  which  hung  a  row  of  red  enameled  tongues, 
bearing  the  inscription  Lingua  ejus  loquetur  mendacium. 
Aretino  received  these  presents  from  the  hands  of 
embassadors,  and  wore  them  when  he  sat  to  Titian  or 
to  Tintoretto  for  his  portrait.  Instead  of  resenting  the 
equivocal  compliment  of  the  French  king's  motto,  he 
gloried  in  it.  Lies,  no  less  than  flattery,  were  among 
the  openly-avowed  weapons  of  his  armory.1  Upon 
the  medals  struck  in  his  honor  he  styled  himself 
Divus  P.  Aretinus,  Flagellum  Principum,  the  Divine 
Pietro  Aretino,  Scourge  of  Princes.  Another  inscrip- 
tion ran  as  follows:  /  Principi  tributati  dai  popoli  il 
Servo  loro  tributano — Princes  who  levy  tribute  from 
their  people,  bring  tribute  to  their  servant.  And  there 
is  Aretino  seated  on  a  throne,  with  noble  clients  laying 
golden  vases  at  his  feet.2 

It  is  incredible  that  arrogance  so  palpable  should 
have  been  tolerated,  inconceivable  how  such  a  braggart 
exercised  this  fascination.  What  had  Emperors  and 
Kings  to  gain  or  lose  by  Aretino's  pen  ?  What  was 
the  secret  of  his  power?  No  satisfactory  answer  has 
yet  been  given  to  these  questions.  The  enigma  does 
not,  indeed,  admit  of  solution.  We  have  to  deal  in 
Aretino's  case  with  a  blind  movement  among  "the  better 
vulgar,"  expressing  itself  as  fashion;  and  nothing  is 
more  difficult  to  fathom  than  the  fashion  of  a  bygone 
age.3  The  prestige  which  attached  itself  to  people 

1  See  the  frank  admissions  in  Lettere,  ii.  52;  iv.  168;  i.  19,  30,  142. 

2  See  the  plates  prefixed  to  Mazzuchelli's  Life  of  Aretino.     Compare 
a  passage  in  his  Letters,  vi.  115,  and  the  headings  of  the  Letters  ad- 
dressed to  him,  passim. 

3  After  studying  the  Lettere  scritte  all'  Aretino— epistles,  it  must  be 


402  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

like  Cagliostro  or  S.  Germains  or  Beau  Nash  is  quite 
incalculable.  Yet  some  account  may  be  rendered  of 
what  seems  to  have  been  Aretino's  method.  He 
assiduously  cultivated  a  reputation  for  reckless  freedom 
of  speech.  He  loudly  trumpeted  his  intention  of 
speaking  evil  when  and  where  it  pleased  him.  He 
proclaimed  himself  the  champion  of  veracity,  asserted 
that  nothing  was  so  damnatory  as  the  truths  he  had  to 
tell,  and  announced  himself  the  "  Censor  of  the  world," 
the  foe  of  vice,  the  defender  of  virtue.  Having  occu- 
pied the  ear  of  society  by  these  preliminary  fanfaron- 
nades,  he  proceeded  to  satirize  the  Courts  in  general, 
and  to  vilify  the  manners  of  princes,  without  mention- 
ing any  in  particular.1  It  thus  came  to  be  believed 
that  Aretino  was  a  dangerous  person,  a  writer  it  would 
be  wiser  to  have  upon  one's  side,  and  who,  if  he  were 
not  coaxed  into  good  humor,  might  say  something 
eminently  disagreeable.2  There  was  pungency  enough 

remembered,  from  foreign  kings  and  princes,  from  cardinals  and  bishops, 
from  Italian  dukes  and  noblemen,  from  illustrious  ladies  and  great  artists, 
and  from  the  most  distinguished  men  of  letters  of  his  day — I  am  quite  at 
a  loss  to  comprehend  ihe/urore  of  fashion  which  accompanied  this  man 
through  his  career.  One  and  all  praise  him  as  the  most  powerful,  the 
most  virtuous,  the  bravest,  the  wittiest,  the  wisest,  or,  to  use  their  fa- 
vorite phrase,  the  divinest  man  of  his  century.  Was  all  this  a  mere 
convention  ?  Was  it  evoked  by  fear  and  desire  of  being  flattered  in 
return  ?  Or,  after  all,  had  Aretino  some  now  occult  splendor,  some 
real,  but  now  unintelligible,  utility  for  his  contemporaries  ? 

1  The  Papal  Court  was  attacked  by  him;  but  none  other  that  I  can 
discover.  The  only  Prince  who  felt  the  rough  side  of  his  tongue  was 
the  Farnese: 

Impara  tu,  Piefluigi  ammorbato, 

Impara,  Ducarel  da  sei  quattrini, 

II  costume  d*  un  Re  si  onorato. 

Cardinal  Gaddi  and  the  Bishop  of  Verona  were  pretty  roughly  treated. 
So  was  Clement  VII.  But  all  these  personages  made  their  peace  with 
Aretino,  and  paid  him  homage. 

•  See  the  curious  epistle  written  to  Messer  Pompeo  Pace  by  the  Conte 


ARETINO'S  METHOD.  403 

in  his  epigrams,  in  the  slashing,  coarse,  incisive  brutal- 
ity of  his  style,  to  make  his  attack  formidable.  People 
shrank  from  it,  as  they  now  shrink  from  articles  in 
certain  libelous  weekly  papers.  Aretino  was  recog- 
nized as  a  Cerberus,  to  whom  sops  should  be  thrown. 
Accordingly,  the  custom  began  of  making  him  presents 
and  conferring  on  him  pensions.  Then  it  was  dis- 
covered that  if  he  used  a  pen  dipped  in  vitriol  for  his 
enemies,  he  had  in  reserve  a  pen  of  gold  for  his  patrons, 
from  which  the  gross  mud-honey  of  flatteries  inces- 
santly trickled.1  To  send  him  a  heavy  fee  was  the 
sure  way  of  receiving  an  adulatory  epistle,  in  which 
the  Scourge  of  Princes  raised  his  benefactor  of  the 
moment  to  the  skies.  In  a  word,  Aretino's  art  con- 
sisted in  making  each  patron  believe  that  the  vigilant 
satirist  of  other  people's  vices  bestowed  just  eulogy 
on  him  alone,  and  that  his  praises  were  wrung  from 
the  mouth  of  truth  by  singular  and  exceptional  merit. 
The  fact  is  that  though  Aretino  corresponded  with  all 
the  princes  of  Europe  and  with  at  least  thirty  Cardinals, 
his  letters  are  nothing  but  a  series  of  the  grossest 
flatteries.  There  is  a  hint  here  and  there  that  the 

di  Monte  Labbate,  and  included  among  the  Lettere  alT  Aretino,  vol.  iv. 
p.  385.  Speaking  of  Aretino's  singular  worth  and  excellent  qualities,  it 
discusses  the  question  of  the  terror  he  inspired,  which  the  author  attri- 
butes to  a  kind  of  justifiable  chantage.  That  Aretino  was  the  inventor  of 
literary  chantage  is  certain;  but  that  it  was  justifiable,  does  not  appear. 
1  Aretino  made  no  secret  of  his  artificial,  method  of  flattery.  In  a 
letter  to  Bembo  (Lettere,  ii.  52),  he  openly  boasts  that  his  literary  skill 
enables  him  to  "swell  the  pride  of  grandees  with  exorbitant  praises, 
keeping  them  aloft  in  the  skies  upon  the  wings  of  hyperboles."  "  It  is 
my  business,"  he  adds,  "to  transform  digressions,  metaphors,  and  ped- 
agogeries  of  all  sorts  into  capstans  for  moving  and  pincers  for  opening. 
I  must  so  work  that  the  voice  of  my  writings  shall  break  the  sleep  of 
avarice;  and  baptize  that  conceit  or  that  phrase  which  shall  bring  me 
crowns  of  gold,  not  laurels." 


404  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

benefactor  had  better  loosen  his  purse  strings,  if  he 
wishes  the  stream  of  sycophancy  to  continue.  When 
Cerberus  has  been  barking  long  without  a  sop,  we 
hear  an  angry  growl,  a  menace,  a  curt  and  vicious  snarl 
for  gold.1  But  no  sooner  has  the  gift  been  sent,  than 
the  fawning  process  recommences.  In  this  way,  by 
terrorism  and  toad-eating,  by  wheedling  and  bullying, 
by  impudent  demands  for  money  and  no  less  impu- 
dent assertions  of  his  power  to  confer  disgrace  or  fame, 
the  rascal  held  society  at  his  disposal.  He  boasted, 
and  not  without  reason,  that  from  his  study  in  Venice 
he  could  move  the  world  by  a  few  lines  scribbled  on 
a  piece  of  paper  with  his  pen.  What  remains  incon- 
ceivable, is  that  any  value  should  have  been  attached 
to  his  invectives  or  his  panegyrics — that  persons  of 
distinction  should  have  paid  him  for  the  latter,  and 
have  stooped  to  deprecate  the  former.  But  it  had 
become  the  fashion  to  be  afraid  of  Aretino,  the  fashion 
to  court  his  goodwill,  the  fashion  to  parade  his  praises. 
Francis  I.  and  Charles  V.  led  this  vogue.  The  other 
princes  followed  suit.  Charles  wished  to  knight  Are- 
tino: but  the  adventurer  refused  a  barren  honor. 
Julius  III.  made  him  knight  of  S.  Peter  with  a  small 

»  As  a  sample  of  his  begging  style,  we  may  extract  the  following 
passage  from  a  letter  (1537),  referring  to  the  king  of  France  (Lettere,  i. 
in):  "I  was  and  ever  shall  be  the  servant  of  his  Majesty,  of  whom  I 
preached  and  published  what  appears  in  all  my  utterances  and  in  all  my 
works.  But  since  it  is  my  wonted  habit  not  to  live  by  dreams,  and  since 
certain  persons  take  no  care  for  me,  I  have  with  glory  to  myself  made 
myself  esteemed  and  sought  by  thTose  who  are  really  liberal.  The  chain 
was  three  years  delayed,  and  four  have  gone  without  so  much  as  a  cour- 
tesy to  me  from  the  King's  quarter.  Therefore  I  have  turned  to  one  who 
gives  without  promising — I  speak  of  the  Emperor.  I  adored  Francis; 
but  never  to  get  money  from  the  stirring  of  his  liberality,  is  enough  to 
cool  the  furnaces  of  Murano." 


PROBLEM   OF  ARETINO' S   INFLUENCE.  405 

pension,  Henry  VIII.  sent  him  a  purse  of  300  crowns 
for  a  dedicatory  epistle.1  It  was  even  talked  of  ele- 
vating him  to  the  rank  of  Cardinal,  and  engrossing 
his  talents  for  the  service  of  the  Church.2  Nobody 
thought  of  addressing  him  without  the  prefix  of  Divino? 
And  yet,  all  this  while,  it  was  known  to  every  one  in 
Italy  that  Aretino  was  a  pander,  a  coward,  a  liar,  a  de- 
bauchee, who  had  wallowed  in  every  lust,  sold  himself  to 
work  all  wickedness,  and  speculated  on  the  grossest  pas- 
sions, the  basest  curiosities,  the  vilest  vices  of  his  age.4 

1  See  Cromwell's  letter,  in  the  Lettere  air  Aretino,  vol.  ii.  p.  15. 

2  Lettere  all'  Aretino,  vol.  i.  p.  245;  vol.  iv.  pp.  281,  289,  300,  contain 
allusions  to  this  project,  which  is  said  to  have  originated  with  the  Duke 
of  Parma.     The  first  citation  is  a  letter  of  Titian's. 

3  "  Divino,"  "  Divinissimo,"  "  Precellentissimo,"  "  Unichissimo,"  "  On- 
nipotente,"  are  a  few  of  the  epithets  culled  from  the  common  language 
of  his  flatterers. 

4  I  will  translate  passages  from  two  letters,  which,  by  their  very 
blasphemies,  emphasize  this  contradiction.     "One  might  well  say  that 
you,  most  divine  Signor  Pietro,  are  neither  Prophet  nor  Sibyl,  but  rather 
the  very  Son  of  God,  seeing  that  God  is  highest  truth  in  heaven,  and  you 
are  truth  on  earth;  nor  is  any  city  but  Venice  fit  to  give  you  harborage, 
who  are  the  jewel  of  the  earth,  the  treasure  of  the  sea,  the  pride  of  heaven; 
and  that  rare  cloth  of  gold,  bedecked  with  gems,  they  place  upon  the 
altar  of  S.  Mark's,  is  naught  but  you  "  (Lettere  scritte  a  P.  Aretino,  vol. 
iii.  p.  176).     The  next  is  more  extraordinary,  since  it  professes  to  be 
written  by  a  monk:  "  In  this  our  age  you  are  a  column,  lantern,  torch 
and  splendor  of  Holy  Church,  who,  could  she  speak,  would  give  to  you 
the  revenues  of  Chieti,  Farnese,  Santa  Fiore,  and  all  those  other  idlers, 
crying  out — Let  them  be  awarded  to  the  Lord  Pietro,  who  distinguishes, 
exalts  and  honors  me,  in  whom  unite  the  subtlety  of  Augustine,  the 
moral  force  of  Gregory,  Jerome's  profundity  of  meaning,  the  weighty 
style  of  Ambrose.    It  is  not  I  but  the  whole  world  that  says  you  are  an- 
other Paul,  who  have  borne  the  name  of  the  Son  of  God  into  the  pres- 
ence of  kings,  potentates,  princes  of  the  universe;  another  Baptist,  who 
with  boldness,  fearing  naught,  have  reproved,  chastised,  exposed  in- 
iquities, malice,  hypocrisy  before  the  whole  world;  another  John  the 
Evangelist,  for  exhorting,  entreating,  exalting,  honoring  the  good,  the 
righteous,  and  the  virtuous.     Verily  he  who  first  called  you  Divine,  can 


406  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Sometimes  he  met  with  men  stout  enough  to  treat 
him  as  he  deserved.  The  English  embassador  at 
Venice  cudgeled  him  within  an  inch  of  his  life. 
Pietro  Strozzi  threatened  to  assassinate  him  if  he 
showed  his  face  abroad,  and  Aretino  kept  close  so 
long  as  the  condottiere  remained  in  Venice.  Tinto- 
retto offered  to  paint  his  portrait;  and  when  he  had 
got  the  fellow  inside  his  studio,  grimly  took  his  meas- 
ure with  a  cutlass.  Aretino  never  resented  these  in- 
sults. Bully  as  he  was,  he  bowed  to  blows,  and  kissed 
the  hand  that  dared  to  strike  him.  We  have  already 
seen  how  he  waited  till  Berni's  death  before  he  took 
revenge  for  the  famous  sonnet.  All  this  makes  the 
general  adulation  of  society  for  the  "  divine  Aretino  " 
the  more  unintelligible.  We  can  only  compare  the 
treatment  he  received  with  the  mingled  contempt  and 
flattery,  the  canings  and  the  invitations,  showered  at  the 
present  time  on  editors  of  scandal-mongering  journals. 

The  miracle  of  Aretino's  dictatorship  is  further 
enhanced  by  the  fact  that  he  played  with  cards  upon 
the  table.  His  epistles  were  continually  being  printed 
—in  fact,  were  sent  to  the  press  as  soon  as  written. 
Here  all  the  world  could  see  the  workings  of  his  mind, 
his  hypocrisies,  his  contradictions,  the  clamorousness 
of  his  demands  for  gold,  the  grossness  and  universality 
of  his  flatteries,  his  cynical  obscenity,  his  simulation  of 
a  superficial  and  disgusting  piety,  Yet  the  more  he 
published  of  his  correspondence,  the  louder  was  the 
acclamation  of  society.  Tlie  charlatan  of  genius  knew 
his  public,  and  won  their  favor  by  effronteries  that 
'  would  have  ruined  a  more  cautious  impostor.  Some 

claim  the  words  Christ  spake  to  Peter:  Beatus  es,  quia  caro  et  sanguis 
non  revelavit  tibi,  sed  Pater  noster  qui  in  coelis  est "  (Ibid.  p.  142). 


RELATIONS    TO    PEOPLE    OF   QUALITY.  407 

of  his  letters  are  masterpieces  of  infernal  malice.  The 
Marchioness  of  Pescara  had  besought  him  to  change 
his  mode  of  life,  and  to  dedicate  his  talents  only  to 
religion.1  This  is  how  he  answers  her2:  "  It  gives  me 
pleasure,  most  modest  lady,  that  the  religious  pieces  I 
have  written  do  not  displease-  the  taste  of  your  good 
judgment.  Your  doubt,  whether  to  praise  me  or  to 
dispraise  me  for  expending  my  talents  on  aught  else 
than  sacred  studies,  is  prompted  by  that  most  excellent 
spirit  which  moves  you  to  desire  that  every  thought 
and  every  word  should  turn  toward  God,  forasmuch  as 
He  is  the  giver  of  virtue  and  of  intellectual  power.  I 
confess  that  I  am  less  useful  to  the  world,  and  less 
acceptable  to  Christ,  when  I  exhaust  my  studious  ener- 
gies on  lying  trifles,  and  not  on  the  eternal  verities. 
But  all  this  evil  is  caused  by  the  pleasure  of  others, 
and  by  my  own  necessities ;  for  if  the  princes  were  as 
truly  pious  as  I  am  indigent,  I  would  employ  my  pen 
on  nothing  else  but  Misereres.  Excellent  my  lady, 
all  men  are  not  gifted  with  the  graces  of  divine  in- 
spiration. They  are  ever  burning  with  lustful  desires, 
while  you  are  every  hour  inflamed  with  angelic  fire. 
For  you  the  services  of  the  Church  and  sermons  are 
what  music  and  comedies  are  for  them.  You  would 
not  turn  your  eyes  to  look  at  Hercules  upon  his  pyre, 
nor  yet  on  Marsyas  without  his  skin :  while  they  would 
hardly  keep  a  S.  Lawrence  on  the  gridiron  or  a  flayed 
Bartholomew  in  their  bedroom.  There's  my  bosom 
friend  Bruciolo ;  five  years  ago  he  dedicated  his  Bible 
to  the  King,  who  calls  himself  Most  Christian,  and  yet 

>  Her  letter  may  be  read  in  the  Letter e  all '  Aretino,  vol.  iii.  p.  28. 
2  Lettere,  ii.  9. 


408  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

he  has  not  had  an  answer.  Perhaps  the  book  was 
neither  well  translated  nor  well  bound.  On  this  ac- 
count my  Cortigiana,  which  drew  from  his  Majesty  the 
famous  chain  of  gold,  abstained  from  laughing  at  his 
Old  Testament;  for  this  would  be  indecent.  So  you 
see  I  ought  to  be  excused  if  I  compose  jests  for  my 
livelihood  and  not  for  evil  purpose.  Anyhow,  may 
Jesus  inspire  you  with  the  thought  of  paying  me 
through  M.  Sebastiano  of  Pesaro — from  whom  I  re- 
ceived your  thirty  crowns — the  rest,  which  I  owe,  upon 
my  word  and  honor.  From  Venice.  The  9th  of 
January,  1537." 

This  letter,  one  long  tissue  of  sneers,  taunts  and 
hypocritical  sarcasms,  gives  the  complete  measure  of 
Aretino's  arrogance.  Yet  the  illustrious  and  pious 
lady  to  whom  it  was  addressed,  suffered  the  writer — 
such  was  this  man's  unaccountable  prestige — to  remain 
her  correspondent.  The  collection  of  his  letters  con- 
tains several  addressed  to  Vittoria  Colonna,  of  which 
the  date  is  subsequent  to  I537.1  Not  less  remarkable 
were  Aretino's  dealings  with  the  proud,  resentful,  soli- 
tary Michelangelo.  Professing  the  highest  admira- 
tion for  Buonarroti's  genius,  averring  that  "  the  world 
has  many  kings  but  one  only  Michelangelo,"  Aretino 
wrote  demanding  drawings  from  the  mighty  sculptor, 
and  giving  him  advice  about  his  pictures  in  the 
Sistine.  Instead  of  treating  these  impertinent  advances 
with  silence  or  sending  a  well-merited  rebuff,  we  have 
a  letter  from  Michelangelo  addressed  to  "  M.  Pietro, 
* 

1  She  wrote  to  him  again  in  1539;  see  Lettere  all'  Aretino,  vol.  iii. 
p.  30.  The  series  of  letters  from  the  virtuous  Veronica  Gambara  are 
equally  astonishing  (ib.  vol.  i.  pp.  318-333). 


RELATIONS    TO   ARTISTS,  409 

my  lord  and  brother,"  requesting  the  dictator  to  write 
something  concerning  him1:  "  Not  only  do  I  hold  this 
dear,  but  I  implore  you  to  do  so,  since  kings  and 
emperors  regard  it  as  the  height  of  favor  to  be  men- 
tioned by  your  pen."  Was  this  the  depth  of  humility, 
or  the  acme  of  irony,  or  was  it  the  acquiescence  of  a 
noble  nature  in  a  fashion  too  prevalent  to  be  examined 
by  the  light  of  reason  ?  Let  those  decide  who  have 
read  a  portion  of  Aretino's  letters  to  his  "  singularly 
divine  Buonaruoto."  For  my  own  part,  in  spite  of  their 
strange  but  characteristic  fusion  of  bullying  and  ser- 
vility, I  find  in  these  epistles  a  trace  of  Aretino's  most 
respectable  quality — his  worship  of  art,  and  his  personal 
attachment  to  great  artists.  It  may  be  said  in  passing 
that  he  never  shows  so  well  as  in  the  epistles  to  san- 
sovino  and  Titian,  men  from  whom  he  could  gain  but 
indirectly,  and  to  whom  he  clung  by  an  instinct  of  what 
was  truest  and  sincerest  in  his  nature.  It  is,  therefore, 
not  improbable  that  Michelangelo  gave  him  credit  for 
sincerity,  and,  instead  of  resenting  his  importunity, 
was  willing  to  accept  his  advances  in  a  kindly  spirit.2 
Thus  far  we  have  been  dealing  with  Aretino's 
relation  to  sovereigns,  ladies,  and  people  of  importance 
in  the  world  of  art.  That  he  should  have  imposed 
upon  them  is  singular.  But  his  position  in  the  re- 
public of  letters  offers  still  stranger  food  for  reflection. 
In  an  age  of  literary  refinement  and  classical  erudition, 
this  untaught  child  of  the  people  arrogated  to  himself 
the  fame  of  a  prominent  author,  and  had  his  claims 

1  Letter e  all'  Aretino,  vol.  ii.  p.  335. 

2  Giorgio  Vasari,  the  common  friend  of  Pietro  Aretino  and  M.  A. 
Buonarroti,  had  no  doubt  something  to  do  with  the  acquiescent  cour- 
tesy of  the  latter. 


410  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALV. 

acknowledged  by  men  like  Bembo,  Varchi,  Molza, 
Sperone.1  All  the  Academies  in  Italy  made  him  their 
member  with  extraordinary  honors,  and  he  corre- 
sponded with  every  writer  of  distinction.  He  treated 
the  scholars  of  his  day  as  he  treated  the  princes  of  Italy, 
abusing  them  collectively  for  pedantry,  and  showering 
the  epithets  of  divino,  divinissimo,  upon  them  individ- 
ually. With  his  usual  sagacity,  Aretino  saw  how  to 
command  the  public  by  running  counter  to  the  preju- 
dices of  his  century,  and  proclaiming  his  independence 
of  its  principles.  He  resolved  to  win  celebrity  by 
contrast,  by  piquancy  of  style,  by  the  assertion  of  his 
individual  character,  by  what  Machiavelli  termed  virtu. 
As  he  had  boasted  of  the  baseness  of  his  origin,  so 
now  he  piqued  himself  upon  his  ignorance.  He  made 
a  parade  of  knowing  neither  Latin  nor  Greek,  derided 
the  puristic  veneration  for  Petrarch  and  Boccaccio 
then  in  vogue,  and  asserted  that  his  mother-wit  was 
the  best  source  of  inspiration.  This  audacity  proved 

1  The  adulation  with  which  all  the  chief  literary  men  of  Italy  greeted 
Aretino,  is  quite  incredible.  One  must  read  their  letters  in  the  Letters 
all'  Aretino  to  have  any  conception  of  it.  See  in  particular  those  of 
Varchi  (id.  vol.  ii.  pp.  186-202),  of  Dolce  (vol.  ii.  pp.  277-295),  of  Paolo 
Giovio  (vol.  iii.  pp.  59-64),  of  Niccolo  Martelli  (vol.  iii.  pp.  116-125),  of 
Annibale  Caro  (ib.  p.  163),  of  Sperone  (ib.  pp.  324-330),  of  Firenzuola 
(ib.  p.  345),  of  Doni  (vol.  iv.  p.  395).  Molza,  terrified  by  one  of  Aretino's 
threats,  cringes  before  him  (vol.  i.  p.  340).  Doni  signs  himself  "  II  Doni 
dell'  Aretino,"  and  Vergerio,  Bishop  of  Capo  d'  Istria,  "  II  Vescovo  dell' 
Aretino."  Even  the  excellent  Bishop  of  Fossombrone  pays  him  courtly 
compliments  (vol.  ii.  pp.  61-67).  The  pitch  attained  by  these  flatteries 
may  be  understood  from  this  opening  of  a  letter:  "  Bella  armonia,  e 
soave  concento,  dovea  essere  nel  cie4o,  Signer  Pietro  divino,  e  fra  le 
stelle  amiche,  il  di,  che  Iddio  e  la  Natura  di  voi  fece  altero  dono  a 
questa  nostra  etade,"  etc.  ad.  inf.  (vol.  iv.  p.  269).  Here  is  another 
fragment:  "  Manifestamente  si  vede  e  si  conosce  che  da  Iddio  per  con- 
servazione  de  la  sua  gloria  e  per  utility  del  mondo  v"  abbi  fra  tanti  av- 
versari,"  etc.  (vol.  iv.  p.  398). 


RELATIONS    TO   MEN   OF  LETTERS.  411 

successful.  While  the  stylists  of  the  day  were  polish- 
ing their  labored  periods  to  smoothness,  he  expressed 
such  thoughts  as  occurred  to  him  in  the  words  which 
came  first  to  hand,  seeking  only  vivacity,  relief  and 
salience.  He  wrote  as  he  talked;  and  the  result  was 
that  he  acquired  a  well- won  reputation  for  freshness, 
wit,  originality  and  vigor.  This  is  how  he  dictates  the 
terms  of  epistolary  style  to  Bernardo  Tasso  1 :  "I,  who 
am  more  your  brother  in  benevolence  than  you  show 
yourself  to  be  my  friend  in  honor,  did  not  believe  that 
the  serenity  of  my  mind  would  ever  again  be  dimmed 
by  those  clouds,  which,  after  thunders  and  lightnings, 
burst  in  the  bolt  that  sent  Antonio  Broccardo  beneath 
the  earth.  Pride  and  vanity,  for  certain,  prompted  you 
to  tell  the  excellent  and  illustrious  Annibale  Caro  that 
no  writer  of  letters  is  worthy  to  be  imitated  at  the 
present  day,  sagaciously  hinting  at  yourself  as  the  right 
man  to  be  imitated.  Without  doubt,  your  inordinate 
self-love,  combined  with  your  inattention  to  the  claims 
of  others,  brought  your  judgment  to  this  pass.  I  pub- 
lished letters  before  you,  and  you  borrowed  your  style, 
in  so  far  as  it  is  worth  anything,  from  me.  Yet  you 
cannot  produce  even  a  counterfeit  of  my  manner. 
My  sentences  and  similes  are  made  to  live;  yours  issue 
stillborn  from  your  mind.  It  is  time  that  you  copy  a 
few  of  my  familiar  phrases,  word  by  word.  What 
else  can  you  do?  Your  own  taste  is  rather  inclined 
to  the  scent  of  flowers  than  the  savor  of  fruits.  You 
have  the  graces  of  a  certain  celestial  style,  fit  for  epi- 
thalamial  odes  and  hymns.  But  all  that  sweetness  is 

i  Letter e,  v.  184.     The  above  is  only  a  condensed  paraphrase  of  •> 
very  long  tirade. 


412  RENAISSANCE    IN  ITALY. 

out  of  place  in  epistles,  where  we  want  the  salience  of  in- 
vention, not  the  illuminated  arabesques  of  artifice.  I  am 
not  going  to  sing  my  own  praises,  nor  to  tell  you  that 
men  of  merit  ought  to  mark  my  birthday  with  white 
chalk — I,  who  without  scouring  the  post-roads,  without 
following  Courts,  without  stirring  from  my  study,  have 
made  every  living  duke,  prince,  sovereign,  tributary  to 
my  virtue — I,  who  hold  fame  at  my  discretion  through 
the  universe — I,  whose  portrait  is  revered,  whose  name 
is  honored  in  Persia  and  the  Indies.  To  end  this 
letter,  I  salute  you  with  the  assurance  that  nobody,  so 
far  as  your  epistles  go,  blames  you  for  envy's  sake, 
while  many,  very  many,  praise  you  through  compassion 
for  your  having  written  them."  There  was  no  limit  to 
his  literary  self-confidence.1  "  Of  the  three  opinions 
current  respecting  the  talents  which  keep  my  name 
alive,  time  has  refuted  that,  which,  hearing  I  had  no 
erudition,  judged  my  compositions  to  be  nonsense,  to- 
gether with  that  other,  which,  finding  in  them  some 
gust  of  genius,  affirmed  they  were  not  mine.  Whence 
it  follows  that  only  one  remains,  the  opinion,  to  wit,  that 
I,  who  never  had  a  tutor,  am  complete  in  every  branch 
of  knowledge.  All  this  comes  from  the  poverty  of  art, 
which  ever  envies  the  wealth  of  nature,  from  whom  I 
borrow  my  conceptions.  Wherefore,  if  you  are  of  the 
number  of  those  who,  in  order  to  deprive  me  of  nature's 
favor,  attribute  to  me  the  learning  that  comes  from 
study,  you  deceive  yourself,  for  I  swear  by  God  I 
hardly  understand  my  mother  tongue."  Meanwhile  his 
tirades  against  the  purists  are  full  of  excellent  good 
sense.  "  O  mistaken  multitude,  I  tell  you  again,  and  yet 
i  Lettere,  ii.  242. 


LITER AR  Y  SELF-RELIANCE. 


413 


again  that  poetry  is  a  caprice  of  nature  in  her  moments 
of  gladness;  it  depends  on  a  man's  own  inspiration, 
and  if  this  fails,  a  poet's  singing  is  but  a  tambourine 
without  rattles,  a  bell-tower  without  bells.  He  who 
attempts  to  write  verses  without  the  gift  is  like  the 
alchemists,  who,  for  all  their  industry  and  eager  avarice, 
never  yet  made  gold,  while  nature,  without  labor, 
turns  it  out  in  plenty,  pure  and  beautiful.  Take 
lessons  from  that  painter,  who,  when  he  was  asked 
whom  he  imitated,  pointed  to  a  crowd  of  living  men, 
meaning  that  he  borrowed  his  examples  from  life  and 
reality.  This  is  what  I  do,  when  I  write  or  talk. 
Nature  herself,  of  whose  simplicity  I  am  the  secretary, 
dictates  that  which  I  set  down." l  And  again :  "  I 
laugh  at  those  pedants,  who  think  that  learning  consists 
in  Greek  and  Latin,  laying  down  the  law  that  one  who 
does  not  understand  these  languages,  cannot  open  his 
mouth.  It  is  not  because  I  do  not  know  them,  that  I 
have  departed  from  Petrarch's  and  Boccaccio's  prece- 
dents; but  because  I  care  not  to  lose  time,  patience, 
reputation,  in  the  mad  attempt  to  convert  myself  into 
their  persons.  The  true  aim  of  writing  is  to  condense 
into  the  space  of  half  a  page,  the  length  of  histories, 
the  tedium  of  orations;  and  this  my  letters  clearly 
show  that  I  have  done."  "  It  is  far  better  to  drink  out 
of  one's  own  wooden  cup  than  another's  golden  goblet; 
and  a  man  makes  a  finer  show  in  his  own  rags  than  in 
stolen  velvets.  What  have  we  to  do  with  other  people's 
property?"2  "What  have  we  to  do  with  words  which, 
however  once  in  common  use,  have  now  passed  out  of 
fashion?"3  At  times  he  bursts  into  a  fury  of  invective 

i  Lettere,  i.  123.  *  Lettere,  ii.  182.  3  Lettere,  i.  210. 


414  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

against  erudition:  "Those  pedants,  the  asses  of  other 
people's  books,  who,  after  massacring  the  dead,  rest 
not  till  they  have  crucified  the  living!  It  was  pedantry 
that  murdered  Duke  Alessandro,  pedantry  that  flung 
the  Cardinal  of  Ravenna  into  prison,  and,  what  is 
worse,  stirred  up  heresy  against  our  faith  through  the 
mouth  of  that  arch-pedant  Luther."1  This  is  admir- 
able. It  plunges  to  the  very  root  of  the  matter. 
Sharpened  by  his  hostility  to  the  learning  he  did  not 
share,  and  the  puerile  aspects  of  which  he  justly  satirized, 
this  acute  and  clairvoyant  critic  is  enabled  to  perceive 
.that  both  Italian  tyrannicide  and  German  Reformation 
had  their  origin  in  the  humanistic  movement  of  the 
fifteenth  century.  He  is  equally  averse  to  either  con- 
sequence. Erudition  spoils  sport,  stiffens  style,  breaks 
in  upon  the  pastimes  of  the  principalities  and  papacies, 
which  breed  the  lusts  on  which  an  Aretino  lives. 

It  was  Aretino's  boast  that  he  composed  as  fast  as 
the  pen  would  move  across  the  paper,  and  that  his 
study  contained  no  books  of  reference — nothing  but 
the  quire  of  paper  and  the  bottle  of  ink,  which  were 
necessary  to  immortalize  the  thick-crowding  fancies  of 
his  brain.  His  comedy  of  the  Filosofo  was  written  in 
ten  mornings ;  the  Talanta  and  the  Ipocrita  in  "  the 
hours  robbed  from  sleep  during  perhaps  twenty  nights."2 
Referring  to  his  earlier  fertility  in  1637,  he  says3:  "Old 
age  begins  to  stupefy  my  brains,  and  love,  which  ought 
to  wake  them  up,  now  sends  them  off  to  sleep.  I  used 
to  turn  out  forty  stanzas  in  a  morning ;  now  I  can  with 
difficulty  produce  one.  It  took  me  only  seven  morn- 

'  Lettere,  i.  143.    »  Lettere,  iii.  84.    Letter  at  the  end  of  the  Talanta. 
1  Letters,  i.  99. 


ARETINO   AS  A    WRITER.  4I5 

ings  to  compose  the  Psalms;  ten  for  the  Cortigiana 
and  the  Marescalco;  forty- eight  for  the  two  Dialogues; 
thirty  for  the  Life  of  Christ?  The  necessary  conse- 
quences of  this  haste  are  discernible  in  all  his  compo- 
sitions. Aretino  left  nothing  artistically  finished,  no- 
thing to  which  it  is  now  possible  to  point  in  justification 
of  his  extraordinary  celebrity.  His  sonnets  are  below 
contempt.  Frigid,  inharmonious,  pompous,  strained, 
affected,  they  exhibit  the  worst  vices  to  which  this 
species  of  poetry  is  liable.  His  Capitoli,  though  he 
compared  them  to  "  colossal  statues  of  gold  or  silver, 
where  I  have  carved  the  forms  of  Julius,  a  Pope, 
Charles,  an  Emperor,  Catherine,  a  Queen,  Francesco 
Maria,  a  Duke,  with  such  art  that  the  outlines  of  their 
inner  nature  are  brought  into  relief,  the  muscles  of 
their  will  and  purpose  are  shown  in  play,  the  profiles 
of  their  emotions  are  thrown  into  salience " J — these 
Capitoli  will  not  bear  comparison  for  one  moment  with 
Berni's.  They  are  coarse  and  strident  in  style,  thread- 
bare in  sentiment,  commonplace  in  conception,  with 
only  one  eminent  quality,  a  certain  gross  prolific  force, 
a  brazen  clash  and  clangor  of  antithesis,  to  compen- 
sate for  their  vulgarity.  Yet,  such  as  they  are,  the 
Capitoli  must  be  reckoned  the  best  of  his  compositions 
in  verse.  Of  his  comedies  I  have  already  spoken. 
These  will  always  be  valuable  for  their  lively  sketches 
of  contemporary  manners,  their  free  satiric  vein  of 
humor.  The  Dialoghi,  although  it  is  scarcely  pos- 
sible to  mention  them  in  a  decent  book  of  history,  are 
distinguished  by  the  same  qualities  of  veracity,  acu- 
men, prolific  vigor,  animal  spirits,  and  outspokenness. 

1  Lett  ere,  vi.  4. 


416  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Aretino's  religious  works,  it  need  hardly  be  said,  are 
worthless  or  worse.  Impudent  romances,  penned  by 
one  of  the  most  unscrupulous  of  men,  frankly  acknowl- 
edged by  their  author  to  be  a  tissue  of  "  poetical  lies," 
we  are  left  to  marvel  how  they  could  have  deceived 
the  judgment  and  perverted  the  taste  of  really  elevated 
natures.1  That  the  Marchioness  of  Pescara  should 
have  hailed  the  coarse  fictions  of  the  Life  of  S.  Cathe- 
rine, which  Aretino  confessed  to  have  written  out  of 
his  own  head,  as  a  work  of  efficient  piety,  remains  one 
of  the  wonders  of  that  extraordinary  age. 

What  then,  it  may  finally  be  asked,  was  Aretino's 
merit  as  an  author?  Why  do  we  allude  to  him  at  all 
in  writing  the  history  of  sixteenth-century  literature? 
The  answer  can  be  given  in  two  words — originality  and 
independence.  It  was  no  vain  boast  of  Aretino  that 
he  trusted  only  to  nature  and  mother-wit.  His  intel- 
lectual distinction  consisted  precisely  in  this  confidence 
and  self-reliance,  at  a  moment  when  the  literary  world 
was  given  over  to  pedantic  scruples  and  the  formalities 
of  academical  prescription.  Writing  without  the  fear 
of  pedagogues  before  his  eyes — seeking,  as  he  says, 
relief,  expression,  force,  and  brilliancy  of  phrase,  he 
produced  a  manner  at  once  singular  and  attractive, 
which  turned  to  ridicule  the  pretensions  of  the  purists. 
He  had  the  courage  of  his  personality,  and  stamped 
upon  his  style  the  very  form  and  pressure  of  himself. 
As  a  writer,  he  exhibited  what  Machiavelli  demanded 
from  the  man  of  action — virtu,  or  the  virility  of  self- 
reliance.  That  was  the  secret  of  his  success.  The 

1  See  Lettet^e,  ii.  168,  iii.  169,  for  his  method  of  composing  these 
hooks. 


ARETINO'S   MANNERISM.  417 

same  audacity  and  independence  characterize  all  his 
utterances  of  opinion — his  criticisms  of  art  and  litera- 
ture—his 'appreciation  of  natural  beauty.  In  some  of 
the  letters  written  to  painters  and  sculptors,  and  in  a 
description  of  a  Venetian  sunset  already  quoted  in 
this  book,  we  trace  the  dawnings  of  a  true  and  natural 
school  of  criticism,  a  forecast  of  the  spontaneity  of 
Diderot  and  Henri  Beyle.  This  naturalness  of  ex- 
pression did  not  save  Aretino  from  glaring  bad  taste. 
His  letters  and  his  dedicatory  introductions  abound  in 
confused  metaphors,  extravagant  concetti,  and  artificial 
ornaments.  It  seems  impossible  for  'him  to  put  pen  to 
paper  without  inventing  monstrous  and  ridiculous  peri- 
phrases. Still  the  literary  impropriety,  which  would 
have  been  affectation  in  any  one  else,  and  which  be- 
came affectation  in  his  imitators,  was  true  to  the  man's 
nature.  He  could  not  be  true  to  himself  without  false- 
ness of  utterance,  because  there  was  in  him  an  in- 
herent insincerity,  and  this  was  veiled  by  no  scholastic 
accuracy  or  studied  purity  of  phrase. 

Much  of  the  bad  taste  of  the  later  Renaissance 
(the  tropes  of  Marini  and  the  absurdities  of  seicentismo) 
may  be  ascribed  to  the  fascination  exercised  by  this 
strange  combination  of  artificiality  and  naturalness  in 
a  style  remarkable  for  vigor.  Who,  for  instance, 
does  not  feel  that  the  mannerism  of  our  euphuistic 
prosaists  is  shadowed  forth  in  the  following  passage 
from  the  introduction  to  the  Talanta?1  The  Pro- 
logue, on  the  drawing  of  the  curtain,  takes  the 

1  I  have  purposely  chosen  an  extract  where  the  style  is  keen  and 
mobile.  Had  I  taken  examples  from  the  Letters,  I  could  have  produced 
a  far  closer  parallel  to  Lilly's  rhetoric. 


418  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

audience  into  his  confidence,  and  tells  them  that  he 
long  had  hesitated  which  of  the  Immortal  Gods  to 
personate.  Mars,  Jupiter,  Phcebus,  Venus,  Mercury, 
and  all  the  Pantheon  in  succession  were  rejected, 
for  different  appropriate  reasons,  till  the  God  of  Love 
appeared.  "  When  at  last  it  came  to  Cupid's  turn, 
I  immediately  said  Yes!  and  having  so  assented,  I 
felt  wings  growing  at  my  shoulders,  the  quiver  at  my 
side,  the  bow  within  my  hands.  In  a  moment  I  be- 
came all  steel,  all  fire;  and  eager  to  be  ware  what 
things  are  done  in  love,  I  cast  a  glance  upon  the  crowd 
of  lovers ;  whence'I  soon  could  see  who  has  the  rendez- 
vous, who  is  sent  about  his  business,  who  prowls  around 
his  mistress'  house,  who  enters  by  the  door,  who  clam- 
bers up  the  walls,  who  scales  the  rope,  who  jumps 
from  the  window,  who  hides  himself  within  a  tub,  who 
takes  the  cudgel,  who  gets  a  gelding  for  his  pa*ins,  who 
is  stowed  away  by  the  chambermaid,  who  is  kicked 
out  by  the  serving-man,  who  goes  mad  with  anxiety, 
who  bursts  with  passion,  who  wastes  away  in  gazing, 
who  cuts  snooks  at  hope,  who  lets  himself  be  hood- 
winked, who  spends  a  fortune  on  his  mistress  to  look 
grand,  who  robs  her  for  a  freak,  who  saps  her  chastity 
with  threats,  who  conjures  her  with  prayers,  who 
blabs  of  his  success,  who  hides  his  luck,  who  bolsters 
up  his  vaunt  with  lies,  who  dissembles  the  truth,  who 
extols  the  flame  that  burns  him,  who  curses  the  cause 
of  his  heart's  conflagration,  who  cannot  eat  for  grief, 
who  cannot  sleep  for  joy, "who  compiles  sonnets,  who 
scribbles  billets-doux,  who  dabbles  in  enchantments, 
who  renews  assaults,  who  takes  counsel  with  bawds, 
who  ties  a  favor  on  his  arm,  who  mumbles  at  a  flower 


BOHEMIANS   IN    VENICE. 


419 


the  wench  has  touched,  who  twangies  the  lute,  who 
hums  a  glee,  who  thrusts  his  rival  through  the  body, 
who  gets  killed  by  his  competitors,  who  eats  his  heart 
out  for  a  mylady,  who  dies  of  longing  for  a  strumpet. 
When  I  understood  the  things  aforesaid,  I  turned 
round  to  these  female  firebrands,  and  saw  how  the 
devil  (to  chastise  them  for  the  perverse  ways  they  use 
toward  men  who  serve  them,  praise  them,  and  adore 
them)  gives  them  up,  easy  victims,  to  a  pedant,  a  ple- 
beian, a  simpleton,  a  loon,  a  groom,  a  graceless  clown, 
and  to  a  certain  mange  that  catches  them." 

Aretino  congregated  round  him  a  whole  class  of 
literary  Bohemians,  drawing  forth  the  peccant  humors 
of  more  than  one  Italian  city,  and  locating  these  greedy 
adventurers  in  Venice  as  his  satellites.  It  is  enough  to 
mention  Niccolo  Franco,  Giovanni  Alberto  Albicante, 
Lorenzo  Veniero,  Doni,  Lodovico  Dolce.  They  were, 
most  of  them,  hack  writers,  who  gained  a  scanty  live- 
lihood by  miscellaneous  work  for  the  booksellers  and 
by  selling  dedications  to  patrons.  More  or  less  success- 
fully, they  carried  on  the  trade  invented  and  developed 
by  Aretino ;  remaining  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  him, 
at  first  as  friends  or  secretaries,  afterwards  as  enemies 
and  rivals.  We  have  already  seen  what  use  was  made 
of  Albicante  for  the  mutilation  of  Berni's  Innamora- 
mento.  This  poetaster  was  a  native  of  Milan,  who 
published  a  history  of  the  war  in  Piedmont,  which 
Aretino  chose  to  ridicule  in  one  of  his  Capitoli.1  Albi- 
cante replied  with  another  poem  in  terza  rima,  and 
Aretino  seems  to  have  perceived  that  he  had  met  a 

i  See  the  article  on  Albicante  in  Mazzuchelli's  Scrittori  Italiani, 
vol.  i. 


420  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

worthy  adversary.  It  was  Albicante's  glory  to  be 
called  furibondo  and  bestiale.  He  affected  an  utter 
indifference  to  consequences,  an  absolute  recklessness 
concerning  what  he  did  and  said.  Whether  Aretino 
was  really  afraid  of  him,  or  whether  he  wished  to  em- 
ploy him  in  the  matter  of  Berni's  Innamor amenta,  is 
not  certain.  At  any  rate,  he  made  advances  to  Albi- 
cante  in  a  letter  which  begins :  "  My  brother,  the  rage 
of  poets  is  but  a  frenzy  of  stupidity."  The  antagonists 
were  reconciled,  and  the  Academy  of  the  Intronati  at 
Siena  thought  this  event  worthy  of  commemoration  in 
a  volume :  "  Combattimento  poetico  del  divino  Aretino 
e  del  bestiale  Albicante  occorso  sopra  la  Guerra  di  Pie- 
monte,  e  la  pace  loro  celebrata  nella  Accademia  de  gli 
Intronati  a  Siena." 

Niccol6  Franco  was  a  native  of  Benevento,  whom 
Aretino  took  into  his  service,  as  a  kind  of  secretary.1 
Being  deficient  in  scholarship,  he  needed  a  man  capable 
of  supplying  him  with  Greek  and  Latin  quotations, 
and  who  could  veneer  his  coarse  work  with  a  show  of 
humanistic  erudition.  Franco  undertook  the  office; 
and  it  is  probable  that  some  of  Aretino's  earlier  works 
of  piety  and  learning — the  Genesis,  for  instance — issued 
from  this  unequal  collaboration.  But  their  good 
accord  did  not  last  long.  Franco  proved  to  be  a 
ruffian  of  even  fiercer  type  than  his  master.  If 
Aretino  kept  a  literary  poignard  in  the  scabbard,  ready 
to  strike  when  his  utility  demanded,  Franco  went 
about  the  world  with  unsheathed  dagger,  stabbing  for 
the  pleasure  of  the  sport.  "  I  would  rather  lose  a 
dinner,"  he  writes,  "  than  omit  to  fire  my  pen  off  when 

1  For  what  follows  see  Tiraboschi.  torn.  vii.  part  3,  lib.  iii. 


ALB  1C  ANTE   AND   FRANCO.  421 

the  fancy  takes  me."  The  two  men  could  not  dwell 
together  in  union.  When  Aretino  published  the  first 
series  of  his  letters,  Franco  issued  a  rival  volume,  in 
the  last  epistle  of  which,  addressed  to  Envy,  he  made 
an  attack  on  his  patron.  Ambrogio  degli  Eusebi,  an 
&me  damnee  of  the  Aretine,  about  whom  many  scurri- 
lous stories  were  told,  stabbed  Franco,  while  Aretino 
published  invective  after  invective  against  him  in  the 
form  of  letters.  Franco  left  Venice,  established  him- 
self for  a  while  at  Casale  in  the  lordship  of  Mont- 
ferrat,  opened  a  school  at  Mantua,  and  ran  a  thousand 
infamous  adventures,  pouring  forth  satirical  sonnets 
all  the  while  at  Aretino.  In  the  course  of  his  wander- 
ings, he  completed  a  Latin  commentary  on  the  Priapea. 
These  two  works  together — the  centuries  of  sonnets 
against  Aretino,  and  the  Priapic  lucubrations — obtained 
a  wide  celebrity.  .  Speaking  of  the  book,  Tiraboschi 
is  compelled  to  say  that  "few  works  exist  which  so 
dishonor  human  nature.  The  grossest  obscenities, 
the  most  licentious  evil-speaking,  the  boldest  contempt 
of  princes,  Popes,  Fathers  of  the  Council,  and  other 
weighty  personages,  are  the  gems  with  which  he 
adorned  his  monument  of  perverse  industry."  Franco 
proved  so  obnoxious  to  polite  society  that  he  was 
at  last  taken  and  summarily  hanged  in  1669.  The 
curious  point  about  this  condemnation  of  a  cur  is, 
that  he  was  in  no  whit  worse  than  many  other  scribblers 
of  the  day.  But  he  made  more  noise;  he  had  not 
the  art  to  rule  society  like  Aretino;  he  committed 
the  mistake  of  trusting  himself  to  the  perilous 
climates  of  Lombardy  and  Rome.  His  old  master 
drove  him  out  of  Venice,  and  the  unlucky  reprobate 


422  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

paid  the  penalty  of  his  misdeeds  by  becoming  the 
scapegoat  for  men  whom  he  detested. 

Doni  began  his  Venetian  career  as  a  friend  of 
Aretino,  whose  companion  he  was  in  the  famous 
Academy  of  the  Pellegrini.  They  quarreled  over  a 
present  sent  to  Doni  by  the  Duke  of  Urbino,  and 
the  bizarre  Florentine  passed  over  to  the  ranks  of 
Aretino's  bitterest  enemies.  In  i556  he  declared  war, 
with  a  book  entitled  "Terremoto  del  Doni  Fiorentino." 
The  preface  was  addressed  to  "the  infamous  and 
vicious  Pietro  Aretino,  the  source  and  fountain  of  all 
evil,  the  stinking  limb  of  public  falsehood,  and  true 
Antichrist  of  our  century."  Soon  after  the  appearance 
of  this  volume,  followed  Aretino's  death.  But  Doni 
pursued  his  animosity  beyond  the  grave,  and  was 
instrumental  in  causing  his  rival's  writings  to  be  sub- 
jected to  ecclesiastical  interdiction. 

We  tire  of  these  low  literary  quarrels.  Yet  they 
form  an  integral  part  of  the  history  of  Italian  civili- 
zation ;  and  the  language  of  invective  used  in  them, 
originating  with  Aretino  and  improved  upon  by  Doni 
and  Franco,  became  the  model  of  vituperative  style  in 
Europe.  Doni's  "  Earthquake,  with  the  Ruin  of  a 
great  Bestial  Colossus,  the  Antichrist  of  our  age,"  brings 
to  mind  a  score  of  pamphlets,  published  in  Europe 
during  the  conflict  of  the  Church  with  Reformation.  We 
find  an  echo  of  its  strained  metaphors  in  the  polemical 
writings  of  Bruno  and  Campanella.  The  grotesque 
manner  of  the  seventeenth  century  begins  with  Aretino 
and  his  satellites,  just  as  its  far-fetched  conceits  may 
be  traced  in  the  clear  language  of  Guarini.  Gongora, 
Marini,  Euphues,  and  the  Precicuscs  Ridicules  of  the 


DONI  AND    ARETINO'S   DEATH.  423 

Hotel  Rambouillet  are  contained,  as  it  were,  in  germ 
among  this  little  knot  of  refugees  at  Venice,  who  set 
their  wits  against  the  academical  traditions  of  pure 
Italian  taste. 

A  characteristic  legend  is  told  of  Aretino's  death. 
Two  of  his  sisters  kept,  it  is  said,  a  house  of  ill  fame; 
and  the  story  runs  that  he  died  of  immoderate  laughter, 
flinging  himself  backward  in  his  chair  and  breaking 
his  neck,  on  hearing  some  foul  jest  reported  by  them. 
It  is  difficult  to  believe  that  this  tale  has  any  founda- 
tion in  fact.  We  must  take  it  as  a  scurrilous  inven- 
tion, proving  the  revolution  of  public  opinion,  which 
since  his  books  had  been  put  upon  the  Index  in  i559, 
undoubtedly  took  place.  Of  like  tenor  is  the  epitaph 
which  was  never  really  placed  upon  his  grave 1 : 

Qui  giace  1'  Aretin  poeta  tosco, 
Che  disse  mal  d'  ognun  fuorche  di  Cristo, 
Scusandosi  col  dir:  non  lo  conosco. 

His  features,  though  formed  upon  a  large  and  not 
ignoble  type,  bore  in  later  life  a  mixed  expression  of 
the  wolf  and  the  fox;  nor  was  it  without  oblique  satire 
that  the  engraver  of  his  portrait,  Giuseppe  Patrini, 
surrounded  the  medallion  with  a  wolf's  hide,  the 
grinning  snarl  and  slanting  eyes  of  the  brute  mimick- 
ing the  man's  physiognomy.  It  was  a  handsome  face, 
no  doubt,  in  youth,  when,  richly  attired  in  the  satin 

i  These  lines  have  been,  without  authority,  ascribed  to  Giovio;  they 
may  thus  be  rendered: 

Here  lieth  Aretine,  in  prose  and  poem 

Who  spake  such  ill  of  all  the  world  but  Christ, 
Pleading  for  this  neglect,  I  do  not  know  him. 

Giovio,  we  may  remember,  styled  Aretino  divino,  divinissimo,  unichis- 
simo,  precellentissimo,  in  his  letters. 


424  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

mantle  cut  for  him  by  a  bishop,  and  mounted  on  his 
white  charger,  he  scoured  the  streets  of  Reggio  at 
Giovanni  de'  Medici's  side,  curling  his  blue -black 
beard,  and  fixing  his  bold  bright  eyes  upon  the  venal 
beauties  they  courted  in  company.  But  the  thick  lips 
and  open  sensual  mouth,  the  distended  nostrils,  and 
the  wicked  puckers  of  the  wrinkles  round  his  eyes  and 
nose,  show  that  the  beast  of  prey  and  appetite  had 
been  encouraged  through  a  life  of  self-indulgence, 
until  the  likeness  of  humanity  yielded  to  victorious 
animalism.  The  same  face,  at  once  handsome  and 
bestial,  never  to  be  forgotten  after  a  first  acquaintance, 
leans  out,  in  the  company  of  Sansovino  and  Titian, 
from  the  bronze  door  of  the  Sacristy  in  S.  Mark's 
Church.1  The  high  relief  is  full  of  life  and  movement, 
one  of  Sansovino's  masterpieces.  And  yet  it  strikes 
one  here  with  even  greater  strangeness  than  the  myths 
of  Ganymede  and  Leda  on  the  portals  of  S.  Peter's  at 
Rome. 

Aretino  is,  in  truth,  not  the  least  of  the  anomalies 
which  meet  us  everywhere  in  the  Italian  Renaissance. 
Was  he  worse,  was  he  not  even  in  some  respects 
better  than  his  age  ?  How  much  of  the  repulsion  he 
inspires  can  be  ascribed  to  altered  taste  and  feeling? 
To  what  extent  was  the  legend  of  the  man,  so  far  as 

>  Among  the  many  flatteries  addressed  to  Aretino  none  is  more 
laughable  than  a  letter  (Lettere  all'  Aretino,  vol.  iii.  p.  175)  which 
praises  his  physical  beauty  in  most  extravagant  terms:  "  Most  divine 
Lord  Peter;  if,  among  the  many  a/id  so  lovely  creatures  that  swinish 
Nature  sends  into  this  worst  of  worlds,  you  alone  are  of  such  beauty  and 
incomparable  grace  that  you  combine  all  qualities  the  human  frame  can 
boast  of:  for  the  which  cause  there  is  no  need  to  wonder  that  Titian, 
when  he  seeks  to  paint  a  face  thai  has  in  it  true  beauty,  uses  his  skilled 
brush  in  only  drawing  you,"  etc.  etc.  The  period  is  too  long  to  finish. 


ESTIMATE    OF  ARETINO,  425 

this  is  separable  from  the  testimony  of  his  writings, 
made  black  by  posthumous  malevolence  and  envy? 
These  are  the  questions  which  rise  in  our  mind  when 
we  reflect  upon  the  incidents  of  his  extraordinary 
career,  and  calmly  estimate  his  credit  with  contem- 
poraries. The  contradictions  of  the  epoch  were  con- 
centrated in  his  character.  He  was  a  professed 
Christian  of  the  type  formed  by  Rome  before  the 
Counter- Reformation.  He  helped  the  needy,  tended 
the  sick,  dowered  orphans,  and  kept  open  house  for 
beggars.  He  was  the  devoted  friend  of  men  like 
Titian,  a  sincere  lover  of  natural  and  artistic  beauty, 
an  acute  and  enthusiastic  critic.  At  the  same  time  he 
did  his  best  to  corrupt  youth  by  painting  vice  in  piquant 
colors.  He  led  a  life  of  open  and  voluptuous  de- 
bauchery. He  was  a  liar,  a  bully,  a  braggart,  veno- 
mous in  the  pursuit  of  private  animosities,  and  the 
remorseless  foe  of  weaker  men  who  met  with  his  dis- 
pleasure. From  the  conditions  of  society  which  pro- 
duced Cesare  and  Lucrezia  Borgia,  Pier  Luigi  Farnese 
and  Gianpaolo  Baglioni,  it  was  no  wonder  that  a  writer 
resolved  on  turning  those  conditions  to  account,  should 
have  arisen.  The  credit  of  originality,  independence, 
self-reliant  character — of  what  Machiavelli  called  virtfr 
— does  certainly  belong  to  him.  It  is  true  that  he 
extracted  the  means  of  a  luxurious  existence  from 
patrons  upon  whom"  he  fawned.  Yet  he  was  superior 
to  the  common  herd  of  courtiers,  in  so  far  as  he  attached 
himself  to  no  master,  and  all  his  adulation  masked  a 
battery  of  menaces.  The  social  diseases  which  emas- 
culated men  of  weaker  fiber,  he  turned  to  the  account 
of  his  rapacious  appetites.  His  force  consisted  in  the 


426  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

clear  notion  he  had  formed  of  his  own  aim  in  life,  and 
the  sagacity  with  which  he  used  the  most  efficient 
means  for  attaining  it.  The  future,  whether  of  repu- 
tation or  of  literary  fame,  had  no  influence  over  his 
imagination.  He  resolved  to  enjoy  the  present,  and 
he  succeeded  beyond  expectation.  Corruption  is  itself 
a  kind  of  superiority,  when  it  is  consummate,  cynical, 
self-conscious.  It  carries  with  it  its  own  clairvoyance, 
its  own  philosophy  of  life,  its  own  good  sense.  More 
than  this,  it  imposes  on  opinion  and  fascinates  society. 
Aretino  did  not  suffer  from  a  divided  will.  He  never 
halted  between  two  courses,  but  realized  the  ideal  of 
the  perfettamente  tristo.  He  lived  up  to  Guicciardini's 
conception  of  the  final  motive,  which  may  be  de- 
scribed as  the  cult  of  self.  Sneering  at  all  men 
less  complete  in  purpose  than  himself,  he  disengaged 
his  conduct  from  contemporary  rules  of  fashion;  dic- 
tated laws  to  his  betters  in  birth,  position,  breeding, 
learning,  morals,  taste;  and  vindicated  his  virility  by 
unimpeded  indulgence  of  his  personal  proclivities. 
He  was  the  last,  the  most  perfect,  if  also  the  most 
vitiated  product  of  Renaissance  manners.  In  the 
second  half  of  the  sixteenth  century,  when  hypocrisy 
descended  like  a  cloud  upon  the  ineradicable  faults 
of  Italy,  there  was  no  longer  any  possibility  for  the 
formation  of  a  hero  after  Aretino's  type. 

Thus  at  the  close  of  any  estimate  of  Aretino,  we 
are  forced  to  do  justice  to  the  man's  vigor.  It  is  not 
for  nothing  that  even  a  debased  society  bows  to  a 
dictatorship  so  autocratic;  nor  can  eminence  be  secured, 
even  among  the  products  of  a  decadent  civilization,  by 
undiluted  defects.  Aretino  owed  his  influence  to 


HIS    VIGOR.  427 

genuine  qualities — to  the  independence  which  underlay 
his  arrogance,  to  the  acute  common  sense  which  almost 
justified  his  vanity,  to  the  outspokenness  which  made 
him  satirize  the  vices  that  he  shared  and  illustrated.1 
We  have  abundant  and  incontrovertible  testimony  to 
the  fact  that  his  Dialogki,  when  they  were  first  pub- 
lished, passed  for  powerful  and  drastic  antidotes  to 
social  poisons2;  and  it  is  clear  that  even  his  religious 
works  were  accepted  by  the  pious  world  as  edifying. 
The  majority  of  his  contemporaries  seem  to  have 
beheld  in  him  the  fearless  denouncer  of  ecclesiastical 
and  civil  tyrants,  the  humble  man's  friend,  and  the 
relentless  detective  of  vice.  The  indescribable  nasti- 
ness  of  the  Dialoghi,  the  false  feeling  of  the  Vita  di  S. 
Catherina,  which  makes  us  turn  with  loathing  from  their 
pages,  did  not  offend  the  taste  of  his  century.  While, 
therefore,  he  comprehended  and  expressed  his  age  in 
its  ruffianism  and  dissoluteness,  he  stood  outside  it  and 
above  it,  dealing  haughtily  and  like  a  potentate  with 
evils  which  subdued  less  hardened  spirits,  and  with 

1  I  should  not  be  surprised  to  see  an  attempt  soon  made  to  whitewash 
Aretino.    Balzac,  in  his  Catherine  de  Medicis,  has  already  indicated  the 
line  to  be  followed:  "  L'Ardtin,  I'ami  de  Titien  et  le  Voltaire  de  son 
siecle,  a,  de  nos  jours,  un  renom  en  complete  opposition  avec  ses  ceuvres. 
avec  son  caractere,  et  que  lui  vaut  une  detiauche  d'esprit  en  harmonie 
avec  les  Merits  de  ce  siecle,  ou  le  drolatique  e"tait  en  honneur,  ou  les 
reines  et  les  cardinaux  e"crivaient  des  contes,  dits  aujourd'hui  licentieux." 

2  I  will  only  refer  to  a  very  curious  epistle  (Lettere  a  P.  Aretino,  vol. 
iii.  p.  193),  which  appears  to  me  genuine,  in  which  Aretino  is  indicated  as 
the  poor  man's  friend  against  princely  tyrants;  and  another  from  Danielle 
Barbaro  (ibid.  p.  217),  in  which  the  Dialogue  on  Courts  is  praised  as  a 
handbook  for  the  warning  and  instruction  of  would-be  courtiers.     The 
Pornographic  Dialogues  made  upon  society  the  same  impression  as 
Zola's  Nana  is  now  making,  although  it  is  clear  to  us  that  they  were 
written  with  a  licentious,  and  not  an  even  ostensibly  scientific,  intention, 


428  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

personages  before  whom  his  equals  groveled.  We 
must  not  suffer  our  hatred  of  his  mendacity,  uncleanli- 
ness,  brutality,  and  arrogance  to  blind  us  to  the  ele- 
ments of  strength  and  freedom  which  can  be  discerned 
in  him.1 

1  While  these  sheets  are  passing  through  the  press,  I  see  announced 
a  forthcoming  work  by  Antonio  Virgili,  Francesco  Berni  con  nuovi  doc- 
umenti.  We  may  expect  from  this  book  more  light  upon  Aretino's  re- 
lation to  the  Tuscan  poet. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

HISTORY  AND  PHILOSOPHY. 

Frivolity  of  Renaissance  Literature — The  Contrast  presented  by  Machia- 
velli — His  Sober  Style — Positive  Spirit — The  Connection  of  his  Works 
— Two  Men  in  Machiavelli — His  Political  Philosophy — The  Patria — 
Place  of  Religion  and  Ethics  in  his  System — Practical  Object  of  his 
Writings  —  Machiavellism  —  His  Conception  of  Nationality  —  His 
Relation  to  the  Renaissance  —  Contrast  between  Machiavelli  and 
Guicciardini — Guicciardini's  Doctrine  of  Self-interest — The  Code  of 
Italian  Corruption — The  Connection  between  these  Historians  and 
the  Philosophers  —  General  Character  of  Italian  Philosophy — The 
Middle  Ages  in  Dissolution — Transition  to  Modern  Thought  and 
Science — Humanism  counterposed  to  Scholasticism — Petrarch — Pico 
— Dialogues  on  Ethics  —  Importance  of  Greek  and  Latin  Studies — 
Classical  substituted  for  Ecclesiastical  Authority  —  Platonism  at 
Florence — Ficino — Translations — New  Interest  in  the  Problem  of 
Life — Valla's  Hedonism — The  Dialogue  De  Voluptate — Aristotle  at 
Padua  and  Bologna — Arabian  and  Greek  Commentators  —  Life  of 
Pietro  Pomponazzi — His  Book  on  Immortality — His  Controversies — 
Pomponazzi's  Standpoint — Unlimited  Belief  in  Aristotle — Retrospect 
over  the  Aristotelian  Doctrine  of  God,  the  World,  the  Human  Soul — 
Three  Problems  in  the  Aristotelian  System — Universals — The  First 
Period  of  Scholastic  Speculation — Individuality — The  Second  Period 
of  Scholasticism — Thomas  Aquinas — The  Nature  of  the  Soul — New 
Impulse  given  to  Speculation  by  the  Renaissance — Averroism — The 
Lateran  Council — Is  the  Soul  Immortal  ? — Pomponazzi  reconstructs 
Aristotle's  Doctrine  by  help  of  Alexander  Aphrodisius — The  Soul  is 
Material  and  Mortal — Man's  Place  in  Nature — Virtue  is  the  End  of 
Man — Pomponazzi  on  Miracles  and  Spirits — His  Distinction  between 
the  Philosopher  and  the  Christian — The  Book  on  Fate — Pomponazzi 
the  Precursor — Coarse  Materialism — The  School  of  Cosenza — Aris- 
totle's Authority  Rejected  —  Telesio  —  Campanella — Bruno  —  The 
Church  stifles  Philosophy  in  Italy — Italian  Positivism. 

THE  literature  which  has  occupied  us  during  the  last 
nine  chapters,  is  a  literature  of  form  and  entertainment. 


430  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Whether  treating  chivalrous  romance,  or  the  Arcadian 
ideal,  or  the  conditions  of  contemporary  life,  these 
poets,  playwrights  and  novelists  had  but  one  serious 
object — the  perfection  of  their  art,  the  richness  and 
variety  of  their  pictures.  In  the  conscious  pursuit  of 
beautiful  form,  Poliziano  and  Ariosto,  Bembo  and 
Berni,  Castiglione  and  Firenzuola,  II  Lasca  and  Molza, 
were  alike  earnest.  For  the  rest,  they  sought  to  occupy 
their  own  leisure,  and  to  give  polite  society  the  pastime 
of  refined  amusement.  The  content  of  this  miscellane- 
ous literature  was  of  far  less  moment  to  the  authors 
and  their  audience  than  its  mode  of  presentation. 
Even  when  they  undertook  some  theme  involving  the 
realities  of  life,  they  dwelt  by  preference  upon  externals. 
In  the  Cortcgiano  and  Galatea,  for  example,  conduct 
is  studied  from  an  sesthetical  far  more  than  from  a 
moral  point  of  view.  The  questions  which  stirred  and 
divided  literary  coteries,  were  questions  of  scholarship, 
style,  language.  Matter  is  everywhere  subordinated  to 
expression;  the  writer's  interest  in  actuality  is  slight; 
the  power  or  the  inclination  to  think  is  inferior  to  the 
faculty  for  harmonious  construction.  These  character- 
istics of  literature  in  general,  render  the  exceptions 
noticeable,  and  force  me,  at  some  risk  of  repetition,  to 
devote  a  chapter  to  those  men  in  whom  the  speculative 
vigor  of  the  race  was  concentrated.  These  were  the 
historians  and  a  small  band  of  metaphysicians,  who 
may  be  fitly  represented  by  a  single  philosopher,  Pietro 
Pomponazzi.  Of  the  Florentine  historiographers, 
from  Villani  to  Guicciardini,  I  have  already  treated  at 
some  length  in  a  previous  portion  of  this  work.1  I 

1  Age  of  the  Despots,  chaps,  v.  and  vi. 


THE   AGE   AND   MACHIAVELLI. 


43' 


shall  therefore  confine  myself  to  resuming  those  points 
in  which  Machiavelli  and  Guicciardini  uttered  the 
reflections  of  their  age  on  statecraft  and  the  laws  that 
govern  political  life. 

When  we  compare  Machiavelli  with  his  contem- 
poraries, we  are  struck  by  his  want  of  sympathy  with 
the  prevalent  artistic  enthusiasms.  Far  from  being 
preoccupied  with  problems  of  diction,  he  wrote  with 
the  sole  object  of  making  what  he  had  to  say  plain. 
The  result  is  that,  without  thinking  about  expression, 
Machiavelli  created  Italian  prose  anew,  and  was  the 
first  to  form  a  monumental  modern  style.  Language 
became,  .  beneath  his  treatment,  a  transparent  and 
colorless  medium  for  presenting  thoughts  to  the 
reader's  mind ;  and  his  thoughts  were  always  removed 
as  little  as  possible  from  the  facts  which  suggested 
them.  He  says  himself  that  he  preferred  in  all  cases 
the  essential  reality  of  a  fact  to  its  modification  by 
fancy  or  by  theory.1  His  style  is,  therefore,  the  reverse 
of  that  which  the  purists  cultivated.  They  uttered 
generalities  in  ornamented  and  sonorous  phrases. 
Machiavelli  scorned  ornament,  and  ignored  the  cadence 
of  the  period.  His  boldest  abstractions  are  presented 
with  the  hard  outline  and  relief  of  concrete  things. 
Each  sentence  is  a  crystal,  formed  of  few  but  precise 
words  by  a  spontaneous  process  in  his  mind.  It  takes 
shape  from  the  thought;  not  from  any  preconceived 
type  of  rhythm,  to  which  the  thought  must  be  accom- 
modated. It  is  perfect  or  imperfect  according  as  the 
thinking  process  has  been  completely  or  incompletely 

i  "  Mi  6  parso  piti  conveniente  andare  dietro  alia  veritk  effettuale 
della  cosa  che  all1  immaginazione  di  essa  "  (Principe,  cap.  xv.). 


432  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

victorious  over  the  difficulties  of  language.  It  is 
figurative  only  when  the  fact  to  be  enforced  derives 
new  energy  from  the  imagination.  Beauty  is  never 
sought,  but  comes  unbidden,  as  upon  the  limbs  and 
muscles  of  an  athlete,  whose  aim  has  been  to  gain 
agility  and  strength.  These  qualities  render  Machia- 
velli's  prose  a  model  worthy  of  imitation  by  all  who 
study  scientific  accuracy. 

The  style  is  the  man ;  and  Machiavelli's  style  was 
the  mirror  of  his  mind  and  character.  While  the 
literary  world  echoed  to  the  cry  of  Art  for  Art,  he 
followed  Science  for  the  sake  of  Science.  Occupied 
with  practical  problems,  smiling  at  the  supra-mundane 
aspirations  of  the  middle  ages,  scorning  the  aesthetical 
ideals  of  the  Renaissance,  he  made  the  political  action 
of  man,  Ihomme politique,  the  object  of  exclusive  study. 
His  resolute  elimination  of  what  he  considered  irrele- 
vant or  distracting  circumstances  from  this  chosen  field 
of  research,  justifies  our  placing  him  among  the  founders 
or  precursors  of  the  modern  scientific  method.  We  may 
judge  his  premises  insufficient,  his  conclusions  false; 
but  we  cannot  mistake  the  positive  quality  of  his  mind 
in  the  midst  of  a  rhetorical  and  artistic  generation. 

There  is  a  strict  link  of  connection  between 
Machiavelli's  works.  These  may  be  divided  into 
four  classes — official,  historical,  speculative  and  literary. 
To  the  first  belongs  his  correspondence  with  the 
Florentine  Government;  to  the  second,  his  Florentine 
History  and  several  mfnor  studies,  the  Vita  di  Cas- 
truccio,  the  Ritratti>  and  the  Metodo  tenuto  dal  Duca 
Valentitw;  to  the  third,  his  Discorsi,  Principe,  Arte 
della  Guerra  and  Discorso  sopra  la  Riforma  di  Fi- 


MA  CHI  A  VELLrs    WRITINGS. 


433 


renze;  to  the  fourth,  his  comedies,  poems,  novel  of 
Belfagor,  and  Descrizione  delta  Peste.  The  familiar 
letters  should  be  used  as  a  key  to  the  more  intimate 
understanding  of  his  character.  They  illustrate  some 
points  in  his  political  philosophy,  explain  his  personal 
motives,  and  throw  much  light  upon  his  purely  literary 
compositions.  We  learn  from  them  to  know  him  as  a 
friend,  the  father  of  a  family,  the  member  of  a  little 
social  circle,  and  finally  as  the  ever-restless  aspirant 
after  public  employment.  Valuable  as  these  letters  are 
for  the  student  of  Machiavelli's  writings,  his  private 
reputation  would  have  gained  by  their  destruction. 
They  show  that  the  man  was  inferior  to  the  thinker. 
In  spite  of  his  logical  consistency  of  intellect,  we  be- 
come convinced,  while  reading  them,  that  there  were 
two  persons  in  Machiavelli.  The  one  was  a  faithful 
servant  of  the  State,  a  student  of  books  and  human 
nature,  the  inaugurator  of  political  philosophy  for 
modern  Europe.  The  other  was  a  boon  companion, 
stooping  to  low  pleasures,  and  soiling  his  correspond- 
ence with  gossip  which  breathes  the  tainted  atmos- 
phere of  Florentine  vice.  These  letters  force  us  to 
reject  the  theory  that  he  wrote  his  comedies  with  any 
profound  ethical  purpose,  or  that  he  personally  abhorred 
the  moral  corruption  of  which  he  pointed  out  the 
weakening  results  for  Italy.  The  famous  epistle  from 
San  Casciano  paints  the  man  in  his  two  aspects — at 
one  moment  in  a  leathern  jerkin,  playing  games  of 
hazard  with  the  butcher,  or  scouring  the  streets  of 
Florence  with  a  Giuliano  Brancaccio;  at  another,  at- 
tired in  senatorial  robes,  conversing  with  princes, 
approaching  the  writers  of  antiquity  on  equal  terms, 


434  RENAISSANCE^  IN  ITALY. 

and  penning  works  which  place  him  on  a  level  with 
Ariosto  and  Galileo.  The  second  of  these  Machia- 
vellis  claims  our  exclusive  attention  at  the  present  mo- 
ment. Yet  it  is  needful  to  remember  that  the  former 
existed,  and  was  no  less  real.  Only  by  keeping  this 
in  mind  can  we  avoid  the  errors  of  thos§  panegyrists 
who  credit  the  Mandragola  with  a  didactic  purpose, 
and  refuse  to  recognize  the  moral  bluntr  iss  betrayed 
in  Machiavelli's  theorization  of  human  coi  luct.  The 
man  who  thought  and  felt  in  private  what  u  familiar 
letters  disclose,  was  no  right  censor  of  the  principles  that 
rule  society.  We  cannot  trust  his  moral  tact  or  taste. 
Machiavelli  was  not  a  metaphysician.  He  started, 
with  the  conception  of  the  State  as  understood  in 
Italy.  His  familiarity  with  the  Latin  classics,  and  his 
acquaintance  with  the  newly-formed  monarchies  of 
Europe,  caused  him,  indeed,  to  modify  the  current 
notion.  But  he  did  not  inquire  into  the  final  cause  of 
political  communities,  or  present  to  his  own  mind  a 
clear  definition  of  what  was  meant  by  the  phrase 
patria.  We  are  aware  of  a  certain  hesitancy  between 
the  ideas  of  the  Commune  and  the  race,  the  State  and 
the  Government,  which  might  have  been  removed  by 
a  more  careful  preliminary  analysis.  Between  the 
Roman  Republic,  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  modern 
nation,  on  the  other,  we  always  find  an  Italian  city. 
From  this  point  of  view,  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  he 
did  not  appropriate  Plato's  Republic  or  Aristotle's 
Politics.^  He  might  by  "such  a  course  of  study  have 

1  The  section  on  the  types  of  commonwealths  in  the  Discorsi  (cap. 

ii.)  comes  straight  from  Polybius.     But  I  am  not  aware  of  any  signs  in 

^lachiavelli  of  a  direct  study  of  the  elder  Greek  philosophical  writings. 


POLITICAL    THEORIES.  435 

avoided  the  severance  of  politics  from  ethics,  which 
renders  his  philosophy  unnatural.  We. must,  however, 
remember  that  he  did  not  propose  to  plan  a  scien- 
tific system.  His  works  have  a  practical  aim  in  view. 
They  are  directed  toward  the  grand  end  of  Italy's 
restoration  from  weakness  and  degeneracy  to  a  place 
among  the  "powerful  peoples  of  the  world.  This  pur- 
pose modifies  them  in  the  most  minute  particulars.  It 
is  ever  p  isent  to  Machiavelli's  mind.  It  makes  his 
philos©!  y  assume  the  form  of  a  critique.  It  explains 
the  apparent  discord  between  the  Discorsi  and  the 
Principe.  It  enables  us  to  comprehend  the  nature  of 
a  patriotism  which  subordinates  the  interests  of  the 
individual  to  the  body  politic,  even  though  the  State 
were  in  the  hands  of  an  unscrupulous  autocrat.  The 
salvation  of  Italy,  rather  than  any  metaphysical  prin- 
ciple, is  the  animating  motive  of  Machiavelli's  political 
writings.  Yet  we  may  note  that  if  he  had  laid  a  more 
solid  philosophical  basis,  if  he  had  striven  more  vigor- 
ously to  work  out  his  own  conception  of  the  patria, 
and  to  understand  the  laws  of  national  health,  instead 
of  trusting  to  such  occasional  remedies  as  the  almost 
desperate  state  of  Italy  afforded,  he  would  have  de- 
served better  of  his  country  and  more  adequately  ful- 
filled his  own  end. 

Though  Machiavelli  had  not  worked  out  the  con- 
ception of  a  nation  as  an  organic  whole,  he  was  pene- 
trated with  the  thought,  familiar  to  his  age,  that  all 
human  institutions,  like  men,  have  a  youth,  a  manhood, 
and  a  period  of  decline.  Looking  round  him,  he  per- 
ceived that  Italy,  of  all  the  European  nations,  had  ad- 
vanced farthest  on  the  path  of  dissolution.  He 


436  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

the  Italians  the  reproach  and  corruption  of  the  world— 
la  corruttela,  il  vituperio  del  mondo.  When  he  inquires 
into  the  causes  of  this  ruin,  he  is  led  to  assign  (i)  the 
moral  debasement  of  his  country  to  the  Roman  Church; 
(ii)  her  sloth  and  inefficiency  in  warfare  to  the  despots 
and  the  mercenaries;  (iii)  her  inability  to  cope  with 
greater  nations  to  the  want  of  one  controlling  power  in 
the  peninsula.  A  nation,  he  argues,  cannot  be  a  nation 
while  divided  into  independent  and  antagonistic  States. 
It  needs  to  be  united  under  a  monarch  like  France, 
reduced  beneath  the  sway  of  a  presiding  common- 
wealth like  ancient  Rome,  or  connected  in  a  federation 
like  the  Swiss.  This  doctrine  of  the  nation,  or,  to  use 
his  own  phrase,  of  the  patria,  as  distinguished  from 
the  Commune  and  the  Empire,  was  highly  original  in 
Italy  at  the  time  when  Machravelli  gave  it  utterance. 
It  contained  the  first  logically  reasoned  aspiration  after 
that  independence  in  unity,  which  the  Italians  were 
destined  to  realize  between  the  years  i858  and  1871. 
He  may  be  said  to  have  formed  it  by  meditating  on 
the  Roman  historians,  and  by  comparing  Italy  with 
the  nascent  modern  nations.  The  notion  of  ethnology 
did  not  enter  into  it  so  much  as  the  notion  of  political 
and  social  cohesion.  Yet  nationality  was  not  excluded; 
for  he  conceived  of  no  power,  whether  Empire  or 
Church,  above  the  people  who  had  strength  to  define 
themselves  against  their  neighbors.  To  secure  for 
the  population  of  the  Italian  peninsula  that  unity  which 
he  rightly  considered  essential  to  the  patria,  and  the 
want  of  which  constituted  their  main  inferiority,  was 
the  object  of  all  his  speculations. 

The  word  patria  sounds  the  keynote  of  his  political 


THE    P ATRIA. 


437 


theory,  and  a  patriot  is  synonymous  for  him  with  a 
completely  virtuous  man.  All  energies,  public  and 
private,  are  only  valuable  in  so  far  as  they  build  up  the 
fabric  of  the  commonwealth.  Religion  is  good  because 
it  sustains  the  moral  fiber  of  the  people.  It  is  a 
powerful  instrument  in  the  hands  of  a  wise  governor ; 
and  the  best  religion  is  that  which  develops  hardy 
and  law-loving  qualities.  He  criticises  Christianity 
for  exalting  contemplative  virtues  above  the  energies 
of  practical  life,  and  for  encouraging  a  spirit  of  humility. 
He  sternly  condemns  the  Church  because  she  has  been 
unfaithful  even  to  the  tame  ideal  of  her  saints,  and  has 
set  an  example  of  licentious  living.  Religion  is  needed 
as  the  basis  of  morality;  and  morality  itself  must  be 
encouraged  as  the  safeguard  of  that  discipline  which 
constitutes  a  nation's  vigor.  A  moralized  race  is 
stronger  than  a  corrupt  one,  because  it  has  a  higher 
respect  for  law  and  social  order,  because  it  accepts 
public  burdens  more  cheerfully,  because  it  is  more 
obedient  to  military  ordinances.  Thus  both  religion 
and  morality  are  means  to  the  grand  end  of  human 
existence,  which  is  strenuous  life  in  a  united  nation. 
I  need  hardly  point  out  how  this  conception  runs 
counter  to  the  transcendentalism  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Machiavelli  admires  the  Germans  for  their  disci- 
pline and  sobriety,  which  he  ascribes  to  the  soundness 
of  their  religious  instincts.  France  and  Spain,  he  says, 
have  been  contaminated  by  the  same  corrupting  in- 
fluence as  Italy ;  but  they  owe  their  present  superiority 
to  the  fact  of  their  monarchical  allegiance.  This  opens 
a  second  indictment  against  the  Church.  Not  only 
has  the  Church  demoralized  the  people;  but  it  is 


458  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

chiefly  due  to  the  ambition  of  the  Popes  that  Italy  has 
never  passed  beyond  the  stage  of  conflict  and  dis- 
union. 

An  important  element  in  this  conception  of  the 
patria  is  that  it  should  be  militant.  Races  that  have 
ceased  from  war,  are  on  the  road  to  ruin;  and  only 
those  are  powerful  which  train  the  native  population 
to  arms.  The  feebleness  of  Italy  can  be  traced  to  the 
mercenary  system,  introduced  by  despots  adopted  by 
commercial  republics,  and  favored  by  ecclesiastics. 
If  the  Italians  desire  to  recover  freedom,  they  must 
form  a  national  militia;  and  this  can  best  be  done  by 
adapting  the  principles  of  the  Roman  army  to  modern 
requirements.  The  Art  of  War  is  a  development  of 
this  theme.  At  its  close,  Machiavelli  promises  the 
scepter  of  Italy,  together  with  the  glory  of  creating 
Italian  nationality,  to  any  State  clear-sighted  and  self- 
denying  enough  to  arm  its  citizens  and  take  the  lead 
in  the  peninsula.  That  State,  he  says,  shall  play  the 
part  of  Macedon.  Reading  the  peroration  of  the  Art 
of  War  by  the  light  of  recent  history,  its  paragraphs 
sound  like  a  prophecy.  What  Machiavelli  there  pro- 
mised, has  been  achieved,  much  in  the  way  he  indicated, 
by  Piedmont,  the  Macedon  of  United  Italy. 

When  Machiavelli  discusses  the  forms  of  constitu- 
tions, he  is  clearly  thinking  of  cities  rather  than  of 
nations  as  we  understand  them.  He  has  no  conception 
of  representative  government,  but  bases  all  his  obser- 
vations on  the  principle  of  turghership.  There  is  no 
sound  intermediate,  he  says,  between  a  commonwealth 
and  a  principality.  In  the  former,  the  burghers  have 
equal  rights.  In  the  latter  there  will  be  a  hierarchy  of 


ARMS  AND   BURGHERSHIP. 


439 


classes.  Though  his  sympathies  are  with  the  former 
(since  he  holds  that  the  equality  of  the  citizens  is  the 
best  safeguard  for  the  liberties  and  law  abiding  virtues 
of  the  State),  he  is  yet  by  no  means  unfavorable  to 
despotism.  The  decadence  of  Italy,  indeed,  had  gone 
so  far  that  her  best  chance  of  restoration  depended  on 
a  prince.  Therefore,  while  he  suggests  measures  for 
converting  despotic  States  into  republics  by  crushing 
the  aristocracy,  and  for  creating  principalities  out  of 
free  commonwealths  by  instituting  an  order  of  nobles, 
he  regards  the  latter  as  the  easier  task  of  the  two. 
Upon  such  topics  we  must  always  bear  in  mind  that 
what  he  says  is  partly  speculative,  and  partly  meant  to 
meet  the  actual  conditions  of  Italian  politics.  The 
point  of  view  is  never  simply  philosophical  nor  yet 
simply  practical.  So  long  as  the  great  end  could  be 
achieved,  and  a  strong  military  power  could  rise  in 
Italy,  he  is  indifferent  to  the  means  employed.  The 
peroration  of  the  Art  of  War  is  an  appeal  to  either 
prince  or  republic.  The  peroration  of  the  Riforma 
di  Firenze  is  an  appeal  to  a  patriotic  Nomothetes.  He 
there  says  to  Clement :  You  have  one  of  those  singular 
opportunities  offered  to  you,  which  confer  undying 
glory  on  a  mortal ;  you  may  make  Florence  free,  and, 
by  wise  regulations,  render  her  the  bulwark  of  renascent 
Italy.  The  peroration  of  the  Principe  is  an  appeal  to 
an  ambitious  autocrat.  Follow  the  suggestions  of 
ancient  and  contemporary  history,  which  all  point  to 
the  formation  of  a  native  army.  Comprehend  the 
magnitude  of  the  task,  and  use  the  right  means  for 
executing  it ;  and  you  will  learn  the  fame  of  restoring 
your  country  to  her  place  among  the  nations. 


440  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

The  case  of  Italy  is  almost  desperate.  Yet  there 
is  still  hope.  A  prudent  lawgiver  may  infuse  life  into 
the  decaying  commonwealth  of  Florence.  A  spirited 
despot  may  succeed  in  bringing  the  whole  peninsula 
by  force  of  arms  beneath  his  sway.  Machiavelli  will 
not  scrutinize  the  nature  of  the  remedy  too  closely. 
He  is  ready  to  sacrifice  his  republican  sympathies,  and 
to  welcome  the  saviour  who  comes  even  in  the  guise 
of  Cesare  Borgia.  When  the  salvation  of  the  patria 
is  at  stake,  none  but  precisians  can  hesitate  about  the 
choice  of  instruments. 

This  indifference  to  means,  provided  the  end  be 
secured,  is  characteristic  of  the  man.  Machiavelli's 
Machiavellism  consists  in  regarding  politics  as  a  game 
of  skill,  where  all  ways  are  justified,  and  fixity  of  pur- 
pose wins.  He  does  not  believe  in  Fortune,  though 
he  admits  the  favorable  circumstances  which  smoothed 
the  way  for  men  like  Cesare.  With  Juvenal,  he 
says :  Nos  te,  nos  facimus,  Fortuna,  deam.  Again,  he 
does  not  believe  in  Providence.  Though  a  prophet 
speak  with  the  voice  of  God,  he  will  not  succeed  unless, 
like  Moses,  he  be  provided  with  a  sword  to  ratify  his 
revelation.  History  is  a  logical  sequence  of  events, 
the  sole  intelligible  nexus  between  its  several  links 
being  the  human  will.  Virtue  is  decision  of  character, 
accompanied  by  intellectual  sagacity;  it  is  the  strong 
man's  subordination  of  his  passions,  prejudices,  pre- 
dilections, energies,  to  the  chosen  aim.  We  all  admit 
that  it  is  better  to  be  good  than  bad.  Yet  morality 
has  little  to  do  with  political  success.  What  lies  in 
the  way  of  really  great  achievement,  is  the  mediocrity 
of  human  nature.  Men  will  not  be  completely  bad  or 


POLITICAL   MORALITY.  441 

perfectly  good.  They  spoil  their  best  endeavors  by 
vacillation  and  incompetence  to  guide  their  action 
with  regard  to  the  sole  end  in  view. 

Enough  has  been  said  in  different  portions  of  this 
book  about  the  morality  of  Machiavelli's  political 
essays.  Yet  this  much  may  be  here  repeated.  Those 
who  wish  to  understand  it,  must  not  forget  the  Medi- 
eval background  of  the  despots — Ezzelini,  Visconti, 
Scaligeri,  Estensi,  Carreresi — which  lay  behind  Machia- 
velli.  The  sinfulness,  treason,  masterful  personality, 
Thyestean  tragedies,  enormous  vices  and  intolerable 
mischief  of  the  Renaissance — all  this  was  but  a  pale 
reflex  of  the  middle  ages.  In  those  earlier  tyrants, 
the  Centaur  progenitors  of  feebler  broods,  through 
generations  in  which  men  gradually  discriminated  the 
tw§5-formed  nature  of  their  ancestry,  the  lust  and  luxury 
of  sin  had  been  at  their  last  apogee.  In  istis  peccandi 
voluptas  erat  summa.  What  followed  in  Machiavelli's 
age,  was  reflection  succeeding  to  action — evil  philo- 
sophized in  place  of  evil  energetic. 

Though  Machiavelli  perceived  that  the  decadence 
of  Italy  was  due  to  bad  education,  corrupt  customs, 
and  a  habit  of  irreligion,  he  did  not  insist  on  the  neces- 
sity of  reformation.  He  was  satisfied  with  invoking 
a  Dictator,  and  he  counseled  this  Dictator  to  meet 
the  badness  of  his  age  with  fraud  and  violence.  Thus 
he  based  his  hope  of  national  regeneration  upon  those 
very  vices  which  he  indicated  as  the  cause  of  national 
degeneracy.  Whether  we  ascribe  this  error  to  the 
spirit  of  the  times  in  which  he  lived,  or  to  something 
defective  in  his  own  character,  it  is  clear  he  had  not 
grasped  the  fundamental  principle  of  righteousness,  as 


442  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

that  which  can  alone  be  safely  trusted  by  a  people  or 
its  princes.  Perhaps  he  thought  that,  for  practical 
purposes,  the  method  of  radical  reformation  was  too 
tardy.  Perhaps  he  despaired  of  seeing  it  attempted. 
Of  all  Italian  institutions,  the  Church,  in  his  opinion, 
was  the  most  corrupted.  Yet  the  Church  held  relig- 
ious monopoly,  and  controlled  education.  And  the 
Church  had  severed  morality  from  religion,  religion 
from  the  State;  making  both  the  private  concern 
of  individuals  between  their  conscience  and  their 
God. 

Just  as  Machiavelli  proved  himself  incapable  of 
transcending  the  corruption  of  his  age,  though  he 
denounced  it;  so,  while  he  grasped  the  notion  of  a 
patria  superior  to  the  commune,  he  was  not  able  to 
disengage  his  mind  from  the  associations  of  Italian 
diplomacy.  He  perceived  that  the  debris  of  medieval 
society  in  Italy — the  Papacy,  the  nobles,  the  condot- 
tieri — afforded  no  foundation  for  the  State  he  dreamed 
of  building.  He  relied  on  the  masses  of  the  people 
as  the  only  sound  constituent  of  his  ideal  patria.  He 
foresaw  a  united  nation,  to  which  the  individual  should 
devote  himself,  and  which  should  absorb  the  dispersed 
forces  of  the  race.  And  yet  he  had  not  conceived  of 
the  nation  as  a  living  whole,  obeying  its  own  laws  of 
evolution  and  expansion.  He  regarded  the  State  as 
a  mechanical  or  artificial  product,  to  be  molded  by 
the  will  of  a  firm  ruler.  In^his  theory  there  is  always 
a  Nomothetes,  a  Dictator,  the  intervenient  skill  of  a 
constructor,  whom  he  imagines  capable  of  altering  the 
conditions  of  political  existence  by  a  coup  cf  etat  or  by 
a  readjustment  of  conflicting  rights  and  interests. 


NARROW   CONCEPTION   OF    THE   NATION.  443 

Even  while  praising  the  French  monarchy  for  its 
stability,  in  words  that  show  a  just  appreciation  of  con- 
stitutional government,  he  hypothesizes  a  lawgiver  in 
the  past.  Chi  ordinb  quello  stato,  voile  che  quelli  re — 
he  who  organized  that  State,  willed  that  those  kings, 
etc.  The  ordinb  and  voile  are  both  characteristic  of 
his  habitual  point  of  view.  Probably  this  faith  in 
manipulation  arose  from  his  lifelong  habit  of  regarding 
small  political  communities,  where  change  was  easily 
effected.  In  his  works  we  do  not  gain  any  broad 
prospect  from  the  vantage-ground  of  comprehensive 
principles,  but  a'  minutely  analytical  discussion  of  state- 
craft, based  in  the  last  resort  upon  the  observation  of 
decadent  Italian  cities.  The  question  always  presents 
itself:  how,  given  certain  circumstances,  ought  a 
republic  or  a  prince  to  use  them  to  the  best  advantage  ? 
The  deeper  problem,  how  a  nation  stirred  by  some 
impulse,  which  combines  all  classes  in  a  common  hero- 
ism or  a  common  animosity,  must  act,  hardly  occurs  to 
his  mind.  England,  with  forces  intellectual,  emotional 
and  practical  at  fullest  strain,  in  combat  with  the 
Spanish  tyranny,  adopting  a  course  of  conduct  which 
reveals  the  nation  to  itself  by  the  act  of  its  instinctive 
will — such  a  phase  of  the  larger,  more  magnetic  life  of 
peoples,  which  Milton  compared  to  the  new  youth  of 
the  eagle,  had  not  been  observed  by  Machiavelli. 
The  German  Reformation,  the  French  Revolution,  the 
American  War  of  Independence,  might  have  taught 
him  to  understand  that  conception  of  the  modern 
nation  which  he  had  divined,  but  which  the  conditions 
of  his  experience  prevented  his  appropriating.  Had 
he  fully  grasped  it,  we  can  scarcely  believe  that  the 


444  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Principe  would  have  been  written.  The  good  faith 
of  that  essay  depends  upon  a  misconception. 

In  like  manner  Machiavelli  discerned  the  weaknesses 
of  the  Renaissance  without  escaping  from  its  enthu- 
siasms. He  despised  the  sesthetical  ideal  of  his  age. 
He  was  willing  to  sacrifice  form,  beauty,  rhythm,  the 
arts  of  culture  and  learned  leisure,  to  stern  matters  of 
fact  and  stringent  discipline.  Yet  he  believed  as  firmly 
as  any  humanist,  that  the  regeneration  of  his  country 
must  proceed  from  a  revival  of  the  past.  It  is  the  loss 
of  antique  virtues  that  has  enervated  our  character,  he 
cries.  It  is  the  neglect  of  historical  lessons  that  renders 
our  policy  so  suicidal.  We  need  to  recover  the  Roman 
military  system,  the  Roman  craft  of  conquest,  the 
Roman  pride  and  poverty,  the  Roman  subordination 
of  the  individual  to  the  State.  What  we  want  is  a 
dictator  or  a  lawgiver  after  the  Roman  fashion — a 
Romulus,  a  Numa,  a  Camillus,  a  Coriolanus.  The 
patrta,  as  he  imagines  it,  is  less  the  modern  nation 
than  the  Roman  Commonwealth  before  the  epoch  of 
the  Empire.  This  unquestioning  belief  in  the  efficacy 
of  classical  revival  finds  vent,  at  the  close  of  the  Arte 
della  Guerra,  in  a  sentence  highly  characteristic  of  the 
Renaissance.  "This  province,  Italy,"  he  says,  "seems 
made  to  give  new  birth  to  things  dead,  as  we  have 
seen  in  poetry,  in  painting,  and  in  sculpture."  Hence, 
he  argues,  it  may  be  her  vocation  to  bring  back  the 
military  system  and  supremacy  of  ancient  Rome. 

Thus,  to  resume  what*  has  been  said,  Machiavelli 
ascribed  the  weakness  of  the  Italians  to  their  loss  of 
morality ;  but  he  was  not  logical  enough  to  insist  that 
their  regeneration  must  begin  with  a  religious  revolu- 


MA  CHI  A  VELLP  S   SCIENCE. 


445 


tion.  He  foresaw  the  modern  nation;  but  he  at- 
tempted to  construct  it  on  the  outlines  of  antiquity. 
Believing  that  States  might  be  formed  or  reformed  by 
ingenious  manipulation  of  machinery,  he  acquired  no 
true  notion  of  constitutional  development  or  national 
evolution.  His  neglect  to  base  his  speculations  on  a 
thorough-going  definition  of  the  State  and  its  relation 
to  man  as  a  social  being,  caused  him  to  assume  a 
severance  between  ethics  and  politics,  which  no  sound 
philosophy  of  human  life  will  warrant. 

On  what,  then,  if  these  criticisms  are  just,  is  founded 
his  claim  to  rank  among  the  inaugurators  of  historical 
and  political  science  ?  The  answer  has  been  already 
given.  It  was  not  so  much  what  he  taught,  as  the 
spirit  in  which  he  approached  the  problems  of  his  in- 
quiry, which  was  scientific  in  the  modern  sense.  Prac- 
tical, sincere  and  positive,  Machiavelli  never  raises 
points  deficient  in  actuality.  He  does  not  invite  us  to 
sympathize  with  the  emotions  of  a  visionary,  or  to 
follow  the  vagaries  of  a  dreamer.  All  that  he  presents, 
is  hard,  tangible  fact,  wrought  into  precise  uncom- 
promising argument,  expressed  in  unmistakably  plain 
language.  Not  only  do  his  works  cast  floods  of  light 
upon  Italian  history;  but  they  suggest  questions  of 
vital  importance,  which  can  still  be  discussed  upon  the 
ground  selected  by  their  author.  They  are,  moreover, 
so  penetrated  with  the  passion  of  a  patriot,  however 
mistaken  in  his  plan  of  national  reconstitution,  that  our 
first  sense  of  repulsion  yields  to  a  warmer  feeling  of 
admiration  for  the  man  who,  from  the  depths  of  despair, 
could  thus  hope  on  against  hope  for  his  country. 

Studying  Guicciardini,  we  remain  within  the  same 


446  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

sphere  of  conceptions,  limited  by  the  conditions  of 
Italian  politics  in  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
There  is  no  less  stringency  of  minute  analysis,  an  even 
sharper  insight  into  motives,  an  equal  purity  and  pre- 
cision of  language.1  But  the  moral  atmosphere  is 
different.  The  corruption  which  Machiavelli  perceived 
and  criticised,  is  now  accepted.  In  the  place  of  desper- 
ate remedies  suggested  by  the  dread  of  certain  ruin, 
Guicciardini  has  nothing  to  offer  but  indifference  and 
self-adjustment  to  the  exigencies  of  the  moment. 
Machiavelli  was  a  visionary  and  an  idealist  in  spite  of 
his  positive  bias.  Guicciardini  is  a  practical  diplo- 
matist, bent  on  saving  his  own  State  and  fortune  from 
the  wreck  which  he  contemplated.  What  gives  gran- 
deur to  Machiavelli's  speculation  is  the  conception 
of  the  patria,  superior  to  the  individual,  demanding 
unlimited  self-sacrifice,  and  repaying  the  devotion  of 
the  citizens  by  strength  in  union.  This  idea  has  dis- 
appeared in  Guicciardini's  writings.  In  its  stead  he 
offers  us  self-interested  egotism.  Where  Machiavelli 
wrote  patria,  he  substituted  il  particolare.  It  follows 
from  this  cold  acquiescence  in  a  base  theory  of  public 
conduct,  adapted  to  a  recognized  state  of  social  anarchy, 
that  Guicciardini's  philosophy  is  far  more  immoral  than 
Machiavelli's.  The  Ricordi,  in  which,  under  the  form 
of  aphorisms,  he  condensed  the  results  of  his  experience 
and  observation,  have  been  well  described  as  the  "  code 
of  Italian  corruption."  Resistance  has  to  be  abandoned. 
Remedies  are  hopeless.  *Let  us  sit  down  and  calmly 
criticise  the  process  of  decay.  A  wise  man  will  seek 

'  I  refer  to  the  Opere  Inedite.     In  the  Istoria  d'  Italia,  Guicciar- 
dini's style  is  inferior  to  Machiavelli's. 


GUICCIARDINP S  PHILOSOPHY.  447 

to  turn  the  worst  circumstances  to  his  own  profit;  and 
what  remains  for  political  sagacity  is  the  accumulation 
of  wealth,  honors,  offices  of  power  on  the  ambitious 
individual. 

Machiavelli  and  Guicciardini  had  this  in  common, 
that  their  mental  attitude  was  analytical,  positive, 
critically  scientific.  It  negatived  the  a  priori  idealism 
of  medieval  political  philosophy,  and  introduced  a  just 
conception  of  the  method  of  inquiry.  This  quality 
connects  them  on  the  one  hand  with  the  practical 
politicians  of  their  age,  and  on  the  other  with  its  repre- 
sentative thinkers  in  the  field  of  metaphysics. 

It  is  no  part  of  my  plan  to  attempt  a  general  history 
of  Italian  philosophy  during  the  Renaissance  period, 
or  even  to  indicate  its  leading  moments.  On  the  scale 
of  my  present  work,  any  such  endeavor  would  of 
necessity  be  incomplete;  for  the  material  to  be  dealt 
with  is  obscure,  and  the  threads  of  thought  to  be  inter- 
woven are  scattered,  requiring  no  little  patience  and 
no  slight  expenditure  of  exposition  on  the  part  of  one 
who  seeks  to  place  them  in  their  proper  relations.  Of 
philosophy,  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  term,  the  Italian 
Renaissance  had  not  much  to  offer.  We  do  not  revert 
to  that  epoch,  expecting  to  meet  with  systematic 
theories  of  the  universe,  plausible  analyses  of  the  laws 
of  thought,  or  ingenious  speculations  upon  the  nature  of 
beino-.  It  is  well  known  that  the  thinkers  of  the 

o 

fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries  can  scarcely  claim  to 
have  done  more  than  lead  the  revolt  of  reason  against 
scholastic  tyranny  and  obsolete  authorities,  appealing 
with  often  misdirected  enthusiasm  to  original  sources, 
and  suggesting  theories  and  methods  which,  in  the 


448  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

hands  of  abler  speculators,  at  a  more  fortunate  epoch, 
generated  the  philosophies  of  modern  Europe.  Yet 
even  so  the  movement  of  thought  in  Italy  was  of  no 
slight  moment,  and  the  work  accomplished  deserves 
to  be  recorded  with  more  honor  than  it  has  hitherto 
received  from  the  historians  of  philosophy. 

The  Renaissance  in  general  may  be  called  the 
Middle  Ages  in  dissolution.  That  the  period  was 
transitional  in  its  chief  aspects,  has  often  already  been 
insisted  on.  The  massive  fabrics  of  feudalism  and  the 
Church  were  breaking  up.  The  vast  edifice  of 
scholastic  theology  was  being  undermined  by  men  who 
had  the  energy  to  free  themselves  from  orthodox 
tradition,  but  scarcely  force  enough  or  opportunity  to 
mold  the  thought  of  the  new  age.  The  Italians  who 
occupied  themselves  with  philosophical  problems,  from 
Petrarch  to  Campanella,  hold  an  intermediate  place 
between  the  schoolmen  and  the  founders  of  modern 
metaphysics.  They  accomplish  the  transition  from  S. 
Thomas  and  Occam  to  Bacon,  Descartes  and  Spinoza. 
It  is  possible  to  mark  three  phases  in  this  process  of 
transition,  each  of  which  was  necessary  in  the  progress 
of  the  mind  from  theological  ontology  to  science  and 
free  speculation.  The  thinkers  of  the  first  stage  began 
by  questioning  the  authority  of  dogma.  Those  of  the 
second  stage  accepted  the  authority  of  the  ancients. 
Those  of  the  third  appealed  to  Nature  against  ecclesi 
astical  and  classical  authority  alike.  Humanism  was 
thus  intermediate  between  scholasticism  and  what,  for 
want  of  a  more  definite  phrase,  may  be  termed  ration- 
alism. Succeeding  to  the  schoolmen,  the  scholars 
cleared  the  groundwork  of  philosophy  of  old  encum- 


THREE    PHASES    OF  ITALIAN    THOUGHT.  449 

brances,  and  reappropriated  antique  systems  of  thought. 
After  them,  the  schools  of  Lower  Italy,  including 
Telesio,  Campanella  and  Bruno,  prepared  the  path  to 
be  immediately  followed ;  with  what  profit  is  apparent 
to  the  dullest  intellect.  Clearly,  and  beyond  the  pos- 
sibility of  question,  they  propounded  the  main  prob- 
lems which  have  agitated  all  the  scientific  schools  of 
modern  Europe.  To  them  belongs  the  credit  of  having 
first  speculated  knowledge  and  reality  from  no  external 
standpoint,  but  from  the  immediate  consciousness. 
The  Interrogatio  Natures  and  the  Cogito>  ergo  sum, 
which  became  the  watchwords  of  modern  empiricism 
and  rationalism,  are  theirs.  But,  at  the  very  moment 
when  the  Italians  of  the  Revival  had  performed  their 
pioneering  task-work,  all  vital  vigor  in  the  nation  was 
extinguished  or  suspended  by  the  deadly  influences  of 
Spanish  domination  and  Papal  terrorism.1  It  was  left 
for  other  races  to  enter  on  the  promised  land  which 
they  had  conquered. 

Upon  its  first  appearance,  it  was  clear  that  human- 
ism would  run  counter  to  both  currents  of  medi- 
eval thought,  the  orthodox  and  the  heretical,  the 
Thomistic  and  Averroistic.  Dante  designed  his  epic 

1  I  cannot  refrain  from  translating  a  paragraph  in  Spaventa's  Essay 
upon  Bruno,  which,  no  less  truly  than  passionately,  states  the  pith  of 
this  Italian  tragedy.  "The  sixteenth  century  was  the  epoch,  in  which 
the  human  spirit  burst  the  chains  that  up  to  then  had  bound  it,  and  was 
free.  There  is  no  more  glorious  age  for  Italy.  The  heroes  of  thought 
and  freedom,  who  then  fought  for  truth,  were  almost  all  her  sons.  They 
were  persecuted  and  extinguished  with  sword  and  fire.  Would  that  the 
liberty  of  thought,  the  autonomy  of  the  reason,  they  gave  to  the  other 
nations  of  Europe,  had  borne  fruit  in  Italy!  From  that  time  forward  we 
remained  as  though  cut  off  from  the  universal  life;  it  seemed  as  if  the 
spirit  which  inspired  the  world  and  pushed  it  onward,  had  abandoned 
us"  (Saggi  di  Critica,  Napoli,  1867,  p.  140). 


450  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

in  accordance  with  the  fixed  outlines  of  Thomistic 
theology.  The  freethinkers  of  the  Lombard  universi- 
ties expressed  a  not  uncertain  adhesion  to  the  materi- 
alistic doctrines  which  passed  for  Averroism.  But 
Petrarch,  the  hero  of  the  coming  age,  pronounced  his 
contempt  for  scholastic  quibbles,  and  at  the  same  time 
waged  war  against  the  tenants  of  Averroes.  He  intro- 
duced a  new  spirit  into  philosophical  discussion,  a  new 
style  of  treatment,  literary  rather  than  scientific,  which 
tended  to  substitute  humane  culture  for  logical  ped- 
antry. The  departure  from  medieval  lines  of  thought, 
thus  signalized  by  Petrarch,  was  followed  by  the  stu- 
dents of  the  next  two  centuries.  Questions  which  had 
agitated  Europe  since  the  days  of  Roscelin,  now 
seemed  to  lose  the  interest  of  actuality.  The  dis- 
tinctions of  Nominalism  and  Realism  retained  no 
attraction  for  men  who  were  engaged  in  discovering 
manuscripts,  learning  to  write  correct  Latin,  acquiring 
Greek,  and  striving  to  penetrate  the  secret  of  antiquity. 
The  very  style  of  the  schoolmen  became  a  byword 
for  ineptitude  and  barbarism.  It  required  no  little 
courage  and  a  prestige  as  brilliant  as  Pico's  to  sustain 
the  cause  of  Albertus  Magnus  or  Johannes  Scotus.1 
Scholars  of  the  type  of  Poggio  and  Filelfo,  Beccadelli 
and  Poliziano,  abhorred  their  ponderous  metaphysics, 
as  though  they  were  grotesque  chimeras  generated  by 
the  indigestion  of  half-starved  intellectual  stomachs. 
Orpheus  had  reappeared.  %  He  bade  the  world  thence- 
forward move  to  music  and"  melodious  rhythms  both  of 
thought  and  language.  The  barbarians  might  harbor 

1  Epistola  Angeli  Potiziani,  lib.  ix.  p.  269  (ed.  Gryphius,  1533). 


SCHOLASTICISM  AND   HUMANISM.  451 

Mercury  within  their  hearts,  to  quote  Pico's  apology ; 
they  might  display  wisdom  in  unvarnished  plainness; 
but  what  were  these  claims  worth  in  an  age  that  required 
the  lips  rather  than  the  soul  to  be  eloquent,  and  when 
a  decorated  fiction  found  more  favor  than  a  naked 
truth  ?  No  more  decided  antithesis  than  that  of  scholas- 
tic philosophy  to  the  new  classical  ideal  is  conceivable. 

Thus  the  first  movement  of  the  Revival  implied 
an  uncompromising  abandonment  of  medieval  thought 
as  worse  than  worthless.  If  men  educated  by  the 
humanistic  method  were  to  speculate,  they  would  do 
so  upon  lines  different  from  those  suggested  by  the 
schoolmen.  Cicero  and  Seneca  became  their  models ; 
and  the  rhetorical  treatment  of  moral  topics  passed  mus- 
ter with  them  for  philosophy.  A  garrulous  colloquial 
skimming  in  fair  Latin  over  the  well-trodden  ground 
of  ethics  supplanted  the  endeavor  to  think  strictly 
upon  difficult  subjects.  Much  of  this  literature — the 
dialogues  of  Alberti,  for  example,  and  Landino's 
Camaldolese  Disputations — can  still  be  read  with  profit. 
But  regarded  from  the  point  of  view  of  systematic 
thought,  it  has  slight  importance.  We  value  it  princi- 
pally for  the  light  it  casts  upon  contemporary  manners 
and  modes  of  opinion. 

The  study  of  Greek  and  Latin  texts  revealed  a 
world  to  the  Italians  far  wider  than  the  regions  where 
the  medieval  mind  had  moved  in  narrow  limits.  The 
immediate  effect  of  this  discovery  was  not,  however, 
wholly  salutary.  The  ancients  began  to  exercise  a  kind 
of  despotism;  and  a  new  authority,  no  less  stringent  than 
that  of  dogma,  bound  the  scholars  of  the  Revival  beneath 
the  tyranny  of  classical  names.  It  was  impossible  for 


45«  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

the  intellect  to  free  itself  from  fetters  at  a  single  leap. 
This  second  servitude  seemed  destined  to  be  even 
more  pernicious  than  the  first ;  for  as  yet  there  was  no 
criticism,  and  the  superincumbent  masses  of  antique 
literature,  extending  from  the  earliest  dawn  of  Greek 
history  to  the  latest  commentators  of  Byzantium  and 
Ravenna,  underwent  but  little  process  of  sifting.  It 
was  enough  for  the  Italians  of  that  epoch  to  assimilate. 
Nothing  which  bore  the  stamp  of  antiquity  came  amiss 
to  their  omnivorous  appetite.  Compilations  from 
second  or  third  sources  were  valued  as  equally  precious 
with  original  texts.  The  testimony  of  hearsay  reporters 
passed  for  conclusive  evidence  in  matters  of  history. 
Masters  in  philosophy  were  confounded  with  expositors, 
who  flourished  at  the  distance  of  some  centuries. 
Athens  and  Alexandria,  Rome  and  Constantinople, 
were  indiscriminately  regarded  as  a  single  Holy  Land 
of  wisdom. 

While  this  fermentation  of  assimilative  erudition 
was  still  at  its  height,  Gemistos  Plethon  preached  his 
Neo-platonic  mysticism  at  Florence;  and  the  first  at- 
tempt at  a  new  philosophy  for  Western  Europe,  in- 
dependent of  the  schoolmen,  uninfluenced  by  orthodoxy, 
proceeded  from  the  Medicean  academy.  The  Platon- 
ism  of  Ficino  and  Pico,  we  now  know,  was  of  a  very 
mixed  and  ill-determined  quality.  Uncontrolled  by 
critical  insight,  and  paralyzed  by  the  prestige  attaching 
to  antiquity,  the  Florentine  school  produced  little 
better  than  an  unintelligent  eclecticism.  Their  so- 
called  philosophical  writings  were  commonplace- 
books  of  citations,  anthologies  of  ill-digested  abstracts, 
in  which  Greek  and  Asiatic  and  Christian  opinions 


FLORENTINE    PLATONISM.  453 

issued  in  an  incoherent  theosophy.  It  must  be 
reckoned  a  great  misfortune  for  Italian  thought  that  the 
Platonists  were  able  to  approach  the  masterpieces  of 
their  Attic  teacher  through  a  medium  of  Alexandrian 
and  Byzantine  enthusiasm.  Had  they  been  forced  to 
attack  the  "  Republic  "  without  the  intervention  of  Plo- 
tinus  and  Gemistos,  they  might  have  started  on  some 
fruitful  line  of  speculation.  They  would  at  least  have 
perceived  that  Plato's  theology  formed  a  background 
to  his  psychological,  ethical,  educational  and  political 
theories,  instead  of  fastening  upon  those  visionary 
systems  which  his  later  Greek  expositors  extracted 
from  the  least  important  portions  of  his  works.  At 
the  same  time,  this  Neo-platonic  mysticism  was  only 
too  sympathetic  to  the  feebler  pietism  of  the  middle 
ages  for  men  who  had  discovered  it,  to  doubt  its 
inspiration. 

What  was  finally  accomplished  for  sound  scholar- 
ship by  Ficino,  lay  in  the  direction,  not  of  metaphysics 
or  of  history,  but  of  translation.  The  enduring  value 
of  Pico's  work  is  due,  not  to  his  Quixotic  quest  of  an 
accord  between  Pagan,  Hebrew  and  Christian  tradi- 
tions, but  to  the  noble  spirit  of  confidence  and  humane 
sympathy  with  all  great  movements  of  the  mind,  which 
penetrates  it.  If  we  cannot  rate  the  positive  achieve- 
ments of  the  Florentines  in  philosophy  at  a  high  value, 
still  the  discussion  of  Platonic  and  Aristotelian  doc- 
trines which  their  investigations  originated,  caused  the 
text  of  the  Greek  philosophers  to  be  accurately  ex- 
amined for  the  first  time  in  Western  Europe.  Their 
theories,  though  devoid  of  originality  and  clogged  at 
every  point  with  slavish  reverence  for  classical  author- 


454  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

ity,  marked  a  momentous  deviation  from  the  traditional 
methods  of  medieval  speculation. 

Thus  a  vast  and  tolerably  accurate  acquaintance 
with  the  chief  thinkers  of  antiquity,  re-enforced  by  the 
translation  of  their  principal  works,  was  the  main 
outcome  of  the  Platonic  revival  at  Florence.  Un- 
critically, and  with  many  a  blundering  divergence  into 
the  uncongenial  provinces  of  Oriental  thought,  the 
Italian  intellect  appropriated  Greek  philosophy.  A 
groundwork  was  laid  down  for  the  discussion  of  fun- 

o 

damental  problems  in  the  forms  under  which  they  had 
presented  themselves  to  the  ancient  world.  But  while 
the  Platonists  were  wrangling  with  the  .Aristotelians 
about  the  superiority  of  their  respective  masters; 
while  the  scholars  were  translating  from  the  original 
languages ;  while  the  mystics  were  building  castles  in 
the  air,  composed  of  fragments  from  Neo-platonic  and 
Neo-pythagorean  systems,  cementing  them  with  the 
mortar  of  Christianity  and  adding  quaint  outbuildings 
of  Cabbalistic  and  astrological  delusions;  the  writers 
of  ethical  treatises  pursued  another  line  of  inquiry, 
which  was  no  less  characteristic  of  the  age  and  no  less 
fruitful  of  results.  During  the  middle  ages  thought 
of  every  kind  had  been  concentrated  on  the  world 
beyond  this  life.  The  question  of  how  to  live  here 
was  answered  with  reference  to  eternal  interests  solely. 
Human  existence  had  no  meaning  except  as  the  pre- 
lude to  heaven  or  hell.  But  contact  with  antiquity  in- 
troduced a  new  class  of  problems.  Men  began  once 
more  to  ask  themselves  how  they  ought  to  live  in  this 
world,  not  with  the  view  of  avoiding  misery  and  se- 
curing happiness  in  the  next,  but  with  the  aim  of 


THE    PROBLEM  HOW   TO   LIVE. 


455 


making  their  terrestrial  home  most  comfortable  and 
their  sojourn  in  it  most  effective  for  themselves  and 
their  companions.  The  discussion  of  the  fundamental 
question  how  to  live  to  best  advantage,  without  regard 
for  the  next  world  and  unbiased  by  the  belief  in  a 
rigid  scheme  of  salvation,  occupies  an  important  place 
in  the  philosophical  essays  of  the  time.  Landino,  for 
example,  in  his  Camaldolese  Disputations,  raises  the 
question  whether  the  contemplative  or  the  practical 
life  offers  superior  attractions  to  a  man  desirous  of 
perfecting  self-culture.  Alberti  touches  the  same  topic 
in  his  minor  dialogues,  while  he  subjects  the  organism 
of  the  Family  in  all  its  relations  to  a  searching  analysis 
in  his  most  important  essay. 

Valla,  in  the  famous  dialogue  De  Voluptate,  attacks 
the  problem  of  conduct  from  another  point  of  view.1 
Contrasting  the  Stoical  with  the  Epicurean  ideals, 
asceticism  with  hedonism,  he  asks  which  of  the  two 
fulfills  the  true  end  of  human  life.  His  treatise  on 
Pleasure  is,  indeed,  a  disputation  between  renascent 
paganism,  naturalism,  and  humanism  on  the  one  side, 
and  the  medieval  scheme  of  ethics  on  the  other.  Man 
according  to  nature  contends  with  man  according  to 
grace;  the  soul,  obeying  the  desires  of  the  flesh, 
defends  her  cause  against  the  spirit,  whose  life  is  hid 
with  a  crucified  Christ  in  God.  Thus  the  two  points 
of  view  between  which  the  Renaissance  wavered,  are 
placed  in  powerful  contrast;  and  nowhere  has  their 
antagonism  been  more  ably  stated.  For  the  champion 
of  hedonism  Valla  appropriately  chose  the  poet  Bec- 

i  Laurentius  Valla:  Opera  omnia,  Basileae,  1465.  The  "  De  Volup- 
tate  "  begins  at  p.  896  of  this  edition. 


456  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

cadelli,  while  he  committed  the  defense  of  asceticism 
to  Niccol6  Niccoli.  Though  at  the  close  of  the  argu- 
ment he  awarded  the  palm  of  victory  to  the  latter,1  it 
is  clear  that  his  sympathies  lay  with  the  former,  and  all 
the  strength  of  his  reasoning  faculty  is  employed  in 
the  statement  and  support  of  Beccadelli's  thesis.  The 
first  and  far  the  longest  part  of  the  dialogue,  where  we 
detect  a  true  note  of  sincerity,  is  a  remorseless  onslaught 
upon  monasticism  under  the  name  of  Stoicism,  result- 
ing in  a  no  less  uncompromising  defense  of  physical 
appetite.  Some  of  the  utterances  upon  sexual  morality 
are  penetrated  with  the  rancor  of  rebellion.2  It  is 
the  revolt  of  the  will  against  unnatural  restrictions,  the 
reassertion  of  natural  liberty,  emboldened  by  the  study 
of  classical  literature,  imbittered  by  long  centuries  of 
ecclesiastical  oppression.  Underlying  the  extravagances 
of  an  argument  which  owes  its  crudity  and  coarseness 
to  the  contradictions  of  the  century,  we  find  one  cen- 
tral thought  of  permanent  importance.  Nature  can  do 
nothing  wrong:  and  that  must  be  wrong  which  violates 
nature.3  It  is  man's  duty,  by  interrogation  of  nature,  to 
discover  the  laws  of  his  own  being  and  to  obey  those. 
In  other  words,  Valla,  though  in  no  sense  a  man  of 

1  "  Uterque  pro  se  de  laudibus  Voluptatis  suavissime  quidem  quasi 
cantare  visus  est;  sed  Antonius  hirundini,  Nicolaus  philomelae  (quam 
lusciniam  nominant)  magis  comparandus"  (ib.  lib.  iii.  p.  697). 

»  "  Me3  quidem  sententia  odiosus  est  si  quis  in  moechos,  si  rerum 
naturam  intueri  volumus,  invehat "  (ib.  lib.  i.  cap.  38).  "  Quisquis  vir- 
gines  sanctimoniales  primus  invenit^abominandum  atque  in  ultimas  ter- 
ras exterminandum  morem  in  civitatem  induxisse.  .  .  .  Melius  meren- 
tur  scorta  et  postribula  quam  sanctimoniales  virgines  ac  continentes '' 
(ib.  lib.  i.  cap.  43). 

3  "  Quod  natura  finxit  atque  formavit  id  nisi  sanctum  laudabileque 
esse  non  posse  "  (ib.  lib.  i.  cap.  9). 


NEW  PHILOSOPHICAL    THESES.  457 

science,  proclaims  the  fundamental  principle  of  science, 
and  inaugurates  a  new  criterion  of  ethics. 

Three  main  points  may  be  discriminated  in  the 
intellectual  movement  briefly  surveyed  in  the  preceding 
paragraphs.  The  first  is  an  abrupt  breach  with  scho- 
lasticism. The  whole  method  of  philosophy  has  been 
changed,  and  the  canon  of  authority  has  altered.  The 
second  is  the  acquisition  of  classical  thought,  and  the 
endeavor,  especially  at  Florence,  among  the  Platonists 
to  appropriate  it  and  adapt  it  to  Christianity.  The 
third  is  the  introduction  of  a  new  problem  into  philo- 
sophical discussion.  How  to  make  the  best  of  human 
life,  is  substituted  for  the  question  how  to  insure  sal- 
vation in  the  world  beyond  the  grave.  It  will  be  ob- 
served that  each  of  these  three  points  implies  departure 
from  the  prescribed  ground  of  medieval  speculation, 
which  always  moved  within  the  limits  of  theology. 
Theology,  except  in  the  mysticism  of  the  Platonists,  ex- 
cept in  occasional  and  perfunctory  allusions  of  the  rheto- 
ricians, has  no  place  in  this  medley  of  scholarship,  cita- 
tion, superstition,  and  frank  handling  of  practical  ideals. 

While  the  Florentine  Platonists  were  evolving  an 
eclectic  mysticism  from  the  materials  furnished  by  their 
Greek  and  Oriental  studies;  while  the  Ciceronian 
humanists  were  discussing  the  fundamental  principles 
which  underlie  the  various  forms  of  human  life;  the 
universities  of  Lombardy  continued  their  exposition  of 
Aristotle  upon  the  lines  laid  down  by  Thomistic  and 
Averroistic  schoolmen.  Padua  and  Bologna  extended 
the  methods  of  the  middle  ages  into  the  Renaissance. 
Their  professors  adhered  to  the  formal  definitions  and 
distinctions  of  an  earlier  epoch,  accumulating  comment 


458  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

upon  comment,  and  darkening  the  text  of  their  originals 
with  glosses.  Yet  the  light  shed  by  the  Revival  pene- 
trated even  to  the  lecture-rooms  of  men  like  Achillini. 
Humanism  had  established  the  principle  of  basing 
erudition  on  the  study  of  authentic  documents.  The 
text  of  Aristotle  in  the  Greek  or  in  first-hand  transla- 
tions, had  become  the  common  property  of  theologians 
and  philosophers.  It  was  from  these  universities  that 
the  first  dim  light  of  veritable  science  was  to  issue. 
And  here  the  part  played  by  one  man  in  the  prepara- 
tion of  a  new  epoch  for  modern  thought  is  so  important 
that  I  may  be  allowed  to  introduce  him  with  some 
prolixity  of  biographical  details.1 

Pietro  Pomponazzi  was  born  of  noble  lineage  at 
Mantua  in  1462.  He  completed  his  studies  at  Padua, 
where  he  graduated  in  1487  as  laureate  of  medicine. 
It  may  be  remarked  incidentally  that  teachers  of  philos- 
ophy at  this  era  held  the  degree  of  physicians.  This 
point  is  not  unimportant,  since  it  fixes  our  attention  on 
the  fact  that  philosophy,  as  distinguished  from  theology, 
had  not  yet  won  a  recognized  position.  Logic  formed 
a  separate  part  of  the  educational  curriculum.  Rhetoric 
was  classed  with  humanistic  literature.  Philosophy 
counted  as  a  branch  of  Physics.  At  Florence,  in  the 
schools  of  the  Platonists,  metaphysical  inquiries  as- 
sumed a  certain  hue  of  mysticism.  At  Padua  and 
Bologna,  in  the  schools  of  the  physicians,  they  assimi- 

1  For  the  following  sketch  of  «Pomponazzi's  life,  and  for  help  in  the 
study  of  his  philosophy,  I  am  indebted  to  Francesco  Fiorentino's  Pietro 
Pomponazzi,  Firenze,  Lemonnier,  1868,  I  vol.  I  may  here  take  occa- 
sion to  mention  a  work  by  the  same  author,  Bernardino  Telesio,  ibid. 
1872,  2  vols.  Together,  these  two  books  form  an  important  contribution 
to  the  history  of  Italian  philosophy. 


PIETRO   POMPONAZZI. 


459 


lated  something  of  materialism.  During  the  middle 
ages  they  had  always  flourished  in  connection  with 
theology.  But  that  association  had  been  broken;  and 
as  yet  a  proper  place  had  not  been  assigned  to  the 
science  of  the  human  mind.  A  new  department  of 
knowledge  was  in  process  of  formation,  distinct  from 
theology,  distinct  from  physics,  distinct  from  literature. 
But  at  the  epoch  of  which  we  are  now  treating,  it  had 
not  been  correctly  marked  off  from  either  of  these 
provinces,  and  in  the  schools  of  Lombardy  it  was 
confounded  with  physical  science. 

In  1488  Pomponazzi,  soon  after  taking  his  degree 
as  a  physician,  was  appointed  Professor  Extraordinary 
of  Philosophy  at  Padua.  He  taught  in  concurrence 
with  the  veteran  Achillini,  who  was  celebrated  for  his 
old-world  erudition  and  his  leaning  toward  the  doctrines 
of  Averroes.  Pomponazzi  signalized  his  debut  in  the 
professorial  career,  by  adopting  a  new  method  of 
instruction.  Less  distinguished  for  learning  than 
acuteness,  he  confined  himself  to  brilliant  elucidations 
of  his  author's  text.  For  glosses,  citations  and  hair- 
splitting distinctions,  he  substituted  lucid  and  precise 
analysis.  It  is  probable  that  he  was  a  poor  Greek 
scholar.  Paolo  Giovio  goes  so  far,  indeed,  as  to  assert 
that,  of  the  two  classical  languages,  he  only  knew 
Latin;  nor  is  there  anything  in  his  own  writings  to  de- 
monstrate that  he  had  studied  Greek  philosophy  in  the 
original.  But  he  proved  himself  a  child  of  the  new  era 
by  his  style  of  exposition,  no  less  than  by  a  strict  ad- 
herence to  Alexander  of  Aphrodisias,  the  Greek  com- 
mentator of  Aristotle.  What  that  divergence  from  the 
system  of  his  rival,  Achillini,  who  still  adhered  to  the 


460  RENAISSANCE   IN   ITALY. 

commentaries  of  Averroes,  implied,  I  shall  endeavor  to 
make  clear  in  the  sequel.  For  the  present,  we  must 
follow  his  career  as  a  professor.  Before  the  year  1496 
he  had  been  appointed  to  the  ordinary  chair  of  Natural 
Philosophy  at  Padua;  and  there  he  resided  until  1609, 
when  the  schools  of  Padua  were  closed.  He  spent  this 
period  chiefly  in  lecturing  on  Aristotle's  Physics,  for  the 
sake  presumably  of  the  medical  students  who  crowded 
that  university.  Forced  by  circumstances  to  leave 
Padua,  Pomponazzi  found  a  home  in  Ferrara,  where 
he  began  to  expound  Aristotle's  treatise  De  Antmd. 
Unlike  Padua,  the  University  of  Ferrara  hacl  a  literary 
bias;  and  we  may  therefore  conclude  that  Pompon- 
azzi  availed  himself  of  this  first  favorable  opportunity 
to  pursue  the  studies  in  Aristotelian  psychology  for 
which  he  had  a  decided  personal  preference.  In  i5i2 
he  was  invited  to  Bologna,  where  he  remained  until 
his  death,  in  the  capacity  of  Professor  of  Natural  and 
Moral  Philosophy.  His  stipend,  increased  gradually 
through  a  series  of  engagements,  varied  from  a  little 
over  200  to  600  golden  ducats.  Bologna,  like  Ferrara, 
was  not  distinguished  for  its  school  of  medicine.  Con- 
sequently, we  find  that  from  the  date  of  his  first  settle- 
ment in  that  city,  Pomponazzi  devoted  himself  to 
psychological  and  ethical  investigations.  All  the  books 
on  which  his  fame  are  founded  were  written  at  Bologna. 
In  the  autumn  of  i5i6  he  published  his  treatise  De 

Immortalitatc  Animce.     It  was  dedicated  to  Marcan- 

»  • 

tonio  Flavio  Contarini;  anil,  finding  its  way  to  Venice, 
it  was  immediately  burned  in  public  because  of  its  heret- 
ical opinions.  A  long  and  fierce  controversy  followed 
this  first  publication.  Contarini,  Agostino  Nifo, 


STUDIES    IN  PSYCHOLOGY.  461 

Ambrogio  Fiandino,  and  Bartolommeo  di  Spina  issued 
treatises,  in  which  they  strove  to  combat  the  Aristo- 
telian materialism  of  Pomponazzi  with  arguments  based 
on  Thomistic  theology  or  Averroistic  mysticism.  He 
replied  with  an  Apologia  and  a  Defensoriiim,  avowing 
his  submission  to  the  Church  in  all  matters  of  faith, 
but  stubbornly  upholding  a  philosophical  disagreement 
with  the  doctrine  of  the  immortality  of  the  human  soul. 
During  this  discussion  Pomponazzi  ran  some  risk  of 
being  held  accountable  for  his  opinions.  The  friars 
and  preachers  of  all  colors  were  loud  in  their  denun- 
ciations; and  it  is  said  that  Bembo's  intercession  with 
Pope  Leo  in  behalf  of  his  old  master  was  needed  to 
secure  Pomponazzi  from  ecclesiastical  procedure.  Dur- 
ing the  last  years  of  his  life  the  professor  of  Bologna 
completed  two  important  treatises,  De  Incantationibus 
and  De  Fato.  They  were  finished  in  1620  but  not 
published  until  after  his  death,  when  they  appeared 
in  the  Basle  edition  of  his  collected  works.  He  died 
in  1 5 25,  and  was  buried  at  Mantua.  Pomponazzi  had 
been  thrice  married.  He  left  behind  him  an  unsullied 
reputation  for  virtuous  conduct  and  sweet  temper. 
He  was,  physically,  a  little  man,  and  owed  to  this 
circumstance  the  sobriquet  of  Peretto.  We  gain  a 
glimpse  of  him  in  one  of  Bandello's  novels.  But,  with 
this  exception,  the  man  is  undiscernible  through  the 
mists  of  three  intervening  centuries.  With  the  author 
the  case  is  different.  In  his  books  Pomponazzi  pre- 
sents a  powerful  and  unmistakable  personality.  What 
remains  to  be  said  about  him  and  his  influence  over 
Italian  thought  must  be  derived  from  an  examination 
of  the  three  treatises  already  mentioned. 


462  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

In  order  to  make  Pomponazzi's  position  intelligible, 
it  will  be  needful  to  review  the  main  outlines  of  Aris- 
totelian thought,  as  it  was  transmitted  through  the 
middle  ages  to  the  men  of  the  Renaissance.  Pompon- 
azzi  claimed  to  be  no  more  than  an  expositor  of 
Aristotle's  system.  If  he  diverged  from  the  paths  of 
orthodox  philosophy,  it  was  because  he  recognized  a 
discrepancy  upon  vital  points  between  Thomas  of 
Aquino  and  the  Peripatetic  writings.  If  he  rejected 
some  fashionable  theories  of  the  freethinkers  who 
preceded  him,  it  was  because  he  saw  that  Averroes 
had  misinterpreted  their  common  master.  He  aimed 
at  stating  once  again  the  precise  doctrine  of  the  Greek 
philosopher.  He  believed  that  if  he  could  but  grasp 
Aristotle's  real  opinion,  he  should  by  that  mental  act 
arrive  at  truth.  The  authority  of  the  Stagirite  in  all 
matters  of  human  knowledge  lay  for  him  beyond  the 
possibility  of  question;  or,  what  amounted  to  nearly 
the  same  thing,  his  interest  in  speculative  questions 
was  confined  to  making  Aristotle's  view  intelligible. 
Thus,  under  the  humble  garb  of  a  commentator,  one 
of  the  boldest  and  in  some  respects  the  most  original 
thinkers  of  his  age  stepped  forth  to  wage  war  with 
superstition  and  ecclesiastical  despotism.  The  Church, 
since  the  date  of  Thomas  Aquinas,  had  so  committed 
herself  to  Aristotle  that  proving  a  discrepancy  be- 
tween her  dogma  and  the  Aristotelian  text  upon  any 
vital  point,  was  much  the.  same  as  attacking  the  dogma 
itself.  This  must  be  kept  steadily  in  mind  if  we 
wish  to  appreciate  Pomponazzi.1  His  attitude  cannot 

'  It  will  be  remembered  that  in  the  controversy  between  Galileo  and 
the  Inquisition,  the  latter  condemned  Copernicus  on  the  score  that  he 
contradicted  Aristotle  and  S.  Thomas  of  Aquino. 


ARISTOTELIAN  AUTHORITY.  463 

easily  be  understood  at  the  present  day,  when  science 
has  discarded  authority,  and  the  ipse  dixit  of  a  dead 
man  carries  no  weight  outside  religious  or  quasi-relig- 
ious circles.  This  renders  the  prefatory  remarks  I 
have  to  make  necessary. 

In  the  Platonic  system  it  was  impossible  to  explain 
the  connection  between  ideas,  conceived  as  sole  reali- 
ties, and  phenomena,  regarded  as  distinct  from  that 
ideal  world  to  which  they  owed  their  qualities  of  rela- 
tive substantiality  and  cognizability.  Aristotle  at- 
tempted to  solve  Plato's  problem  by  his  theory  of  form 
and  matter,  activity  and  passivity,  energy  and  potenti- 
ality, inseparable  in  the  reality  of  the  individual.  He 
represented  the  intelligible  world  as  a  scale  of  exist- 
ences, beginning  with  form  and  matter  coherent  in  the 
simplest  object,  and  ending  in  God.  God  was  the 
form  of  forms,  the  thought  of  thoughts,  independent 
of  matter,  immovable  and  unchangeable,  although  the 
cause  of  movement  and  variety.  The  forms  resumed 
in  God,  as  species  are  included  in  the  Summum  Genus, 
were  disseminated  through  the  universe  in  a  hierarchy 
of  substances,  from  the  most  complex  immediately 
below  God,  to  the  most  simple  immediately  above  the 
groundwork  given  by  incognizable  matter.  In  this 
hierarchy  matter  was  conceived  as  the  mere  base; 
necessary,  indeed,  to  every  individual  but  God;  an 
essential  element  of  reality ;  but  beyond  the  reach  of 
knowledge.  The  form  or  universal  alone  was  intelli- 

o 

gible.  It  may  already  be  perceived  that  in  this  system, 
if  the  individual,  composed  of  form  and  matter,  alone 
is  substantial  and  concrete,  while  the  universal  alone  is 
cognizable,  Aristotle  admitted  a  division  between  reality 


464  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

and  truth.  The  former  attribute  belongs  to  the  indi- 
vidual, the  latter  to  the  universal.  The  place  of  God, 
too,  in  the  system  is  doubtful.  Is  He  meant  to  be  im- 
manent in  the  universe,  or  separated  from  it?  Aris- 
totle uses  language  which  supports  each  of  these 
views.  Again,  God  is  immaterial,  universal,  the  highest 
form ;  and  yet  at  the  same  time  He  is  an  individual 
substance ;  whereas,  by  the  fundamental  conception  of 
the  whole  scheme,  the  coherence  of  form  and  matter 
in  the  individual  is  necessary  to  reality.  It  might 
seem  possible  to  escape  from  these  difficulties  by  re- 
garding Aristotle's  Deity  as  the  Idea  of  the  Universe, 
and  each  inferior  form  in  the  ascending  series  of  exist- 
ences as  the  material  of  its  immediate  superior,  until 
the  final  and  inclusive  form  is  reached  in  God.  But 
what,  then,  becomes  of  matter  in  itself,  which,  though 
recognized  as  unintelligible,  is  postulated  as  the  neces- 
sary base  of  individual  substances? 

In  Aristotle's  theory  of  life  there  is  a  similar 
ascending  scale.  The  soul  (^>vxn)  is  defined  as  the 
form  of  the  body.  Its  vegetative,  motive,  sensitive, 

appetitive       faculties        {^vxrj    Qpeimxij,     xivijrix^,     atdQqrixj), 

are  subordinated  to  the  active  intellect  (vou? 
,  which  receives  their  reports;  and  this  in 
its  turn  is  subordinated  to  the  active  intellect  (rovs 
jroij/rixos),  which  possesses  the  content  of  the  passive 
intellect  as  thought.  The  intellect  (vovs)  is  man's 
peculiar  property :  and  Aristotle  in  plain  words  asserts 
that  it  is  separate  from  "the  soul  (i/>i^).  But  he  has 
not  explained  whether  it  is  separate  as  the  highest 
series  of  an  evolution  may  be  called  distinct  from  the 
lower,  or  as  something  alien  and  communicated  from 


THE   ARISTOTELIAN  SYSTEM.  465 

without  is  separate.  The  passive  intellect,  being  a 
receptacle  for  images  and  phantasms  furnished  by  the 
senses,  perishes  with  the  soul,  which,  upon  the  disso- 
lution of  the  body,  whereof  it  is  the  form,  ceases  to 
exist.  But  the  active  intellect  is  immortal  and  eternal, 
being  pure  thought,  and  identifiable  in  the  last  resort 
with  God.  So  much  Aristotle  seems  to  have  laid 
down  about  the  immortality  of  the  intellect.  It  is 
tempting  to  infer  that  he  maintained  a  theory  of  man's 
participation  in  the  divine  Idea — that  is  to  say,  in  the 
complex  of  the  categories  which  render  the  universe 
intelligible  and  distinguish  it  as  a  cosmos.  But,  just 
as  Aristotle  failed  to  explain  the  connection  of  God 
with  the  world,  so  he  failed  to  render  his  opinion  re- 
garding the  relation  of  God  to  the  human  intellect, 
and  of  the  immortal  to  the  perishable  part  of  the  soul, 
manifest.  It  can,  however,  be  safely  asserted  that  he 
laid  himself  open  to  a  denial  of  the  immortality  of  each 
individual  person.  This,  at  any  rate,  would  follow  from 
the  assumption  that  he  believed  us  to  be  persons  by 
reason  of  physical  existence,  of  the  soul's  faculties,  and 
of  that  blending  of  the  reason  with  the  orectic  soul 
which  we  call  will.  As  the  universe  culminates  in 
God,  so  man  culminates  in  thought,  which  is  the  de- 
finition of  God ;  and  this  thought  is  eternal,  the  same 
for  all  and  for  ever.  It  does  not,  however,  follow  that 
each  man  who  has  shared  the  divine  thought,  should 
survive  the  dissolution  of  his  body.  The  person  is  a 
complex,  and  this  complex  perishes.  The  active  in- 
tellect is  imperishable,  but  it  is  impersonal.  In  like 
manner  the  whole  hierarchy  of  substances  between  the 
pround  of  matter  and  the  form  of  forms  is  in  perpetual 


466  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

process  of  combination  and  dissolution.  But  the 
supreme  Idea  endures,  in  isolation  from  that  flux  and 
reflux  of  the  individuals  it  causes.  Whether  we  re- 
gard the  ontological  or  the  psychological  series,  only 
the  world  of  pure  thought,  the  Idea,  is  indissoluble, 
subject  to  no  process  of  becoming,  and  superior  to  all 
change.  The  supreme  place  assigned  to  Thought  in 
either  hierarchy  is  clear  enough.  But  the  nexus  be- 
tween (i)  God  and  the  Universe  (ii)  God  and  the 
active  intellect  (iii)  the  active  intellect,  or  pure 
thought,  and  the  inferior  faculties  of  the  soul,  which 
supply  it  with  material  for  thought,  is  unexplained. 

Three  distinct  but  interpenetrating  problems  were 
presented  by  the  Aristptelian  system.  One  concerns 
the  theory  of  the  Universal.  Are  universals  or  par- 
ticulars prior?  Do  we  collect  the  former  from  the 
latter ;  or  do  the  latter  owe  their  value  as  approximate 
realities  to  the  former?  The  second  concerns  the 
theory  of  the  Individual.  Assuming  that  the  Indivi- 
dual is  a  complex  of  form  and  matter,  are  we  to  regard 
the  matter  or  the  form  as  its  essential  substratum  ? 
The  third  concerns  the  theory  of  the  human  Soul.  Is 
it  perishable  with  the  body,  or  immortal  ?  If  it  is 
immortal,  does  the  incorruptible  quality  perpetuate 
the  person  who  has  lived  upon  this  globe ;  or  is  it  the 
common  property  of  all  persons,  surviving  their  decease, 
but  not  insuring  the  prolongation  of  each  several 
consciousness?  The  first  of  these  problems  formed 
the  battle-field  of  Nominalists,  Realists  and  Concep- 
tualists  in  the  first  period  of  medieval  thought.  It  was 
waged  upon  the  data  supplied  by  Porphyry's  abstract 
of  the  Aristotelian  doctrine  of  the  predicaments.  The 


THREE    PROBLEMS,  467 

second  problem  occupied  the  encyclopaedic  thinkers  of 
the  second  period,  Albertus  Magnus,  Duns  Scotus  and 
Thomas  of  Aquino.  Their  contest  was  fought  out 
over  the  Metaphysics  of  Aristotle.  The  third  problem 
arrested  the  attention  of  speculators  in  the  age  of  the 
Renaissance.  The  text  which  they  disputed  was 
Aristotle's  essay  De  Animd.  This  movement  of 
medieval  thought  from  point  to  point  was  not  un- 
natural nor  unnecessitated.  In  the  first  period  Aristotle 
was  unknown ;  but  the  creeds  of  Christianity  supplied 
a  very  definite  body  of  conceptions  to  be  dealt  with. 
About  the  personality  of  God,  the  immortality  of  the 
soul,  and  the  concrete  reality  of  the  human  individual, 
there  was  then  no  doubt.  Theology  was  paramount ; 
and  the  contention  of  the  schoolmen  at  this  epoch  re- 
garded the  right  interpretation  of  the  Universal.  Was 
it  a  simple  conception  of  the  mind,  or  an  external  and 
substantial  reality?  Was  it  a  name  or  an  entity? 
The  Nominalists,  who  adopted  the  former  of  these  two 
alternatives,  fell  necessarily  beneath  the  ban  of  ecclesi- 
astical censure  and  suspicion ;  not  because  their 
philosophical  conclusions  were  unwarranted,  but  be- 
cause these  ran  counter  to  the  prevailing  spirit  of  the 
Christian  belief.  Their  definitions  sapped  the  basis  of 
that  transcendentalism  on  which  the  whole  fabric  of 
medieval  thought  reposed.  Nevertheless,  at  the  end 
of  the  battle,  the  Nominalists  virtually  gained  the  day. 
Abelard's  Conceptualism  was  an  attempt  to  harmonize 
antagonistic  points  of  view  by  emphasizing  the  abstrac- 
tive faculty  of  the  human  subject.  In  the  course  of 
this  warfare  the  problem  of  the  Individual  had  been 
neglected.  The  reciprocity  of  form  and  matter  had 


468  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

not  been  expressly  made  a  topic  of  dispute.  Mean- 
while a  flood  of  new  light  was  being  cast  upon  philo- 
sophical questions  by  the  introduction  into  Europe  of 
Latin  texts  translated  by  Jewish  scholars  from  the 
Arabic  versions  of  Aristotle,  as  well  as  by  the  commen- 
taries of  Averroes.  This  rediscovery  of  Aristotle 
forced  the  schoolmen  of  the  second  period  to  consider 
the  fundamental  relation  of  matter  to  form.  The 
master  had  postulated  the  conjunction  of  these  two 
constituents  in  the  individual.  Thomas  of  Aquino  and 
Duns  Scotus  advanced  opposing  theories  to  explain 
the  ground  and  process  of  individualization.  With 
regard  to  the  elder  problem  of  the  Universal,  S. 
Thomas  declared  himself  for  modified  Conceptualism. 
With  regard  to  the  second  problem,  he  pronounced 
matter  to  be  the  substratum  of  individuals — matter 
stamped  as  with  a  seal  by  the  form  impressed  upon  it. 
Thus  he  adhered  as  closely  as  was  possible  for  a 
theologian  to  the  Peripatetic  doctrines.  For  a  student 
of  philosophy  to  advance  opinions  without  reckoning 
with  Aristotle  was  now  impossible.  The  great  Domin- 
ican Doctor  achieved  the  task  of  bringing  Aristotle 
into  satisfactory  accord  with  Christian  dogma.  Nor 
was  this  so  difficult  as  it  appears.  Aristotle,  as  we 
have  seen,  did  not  define  his  views  about  the  soul  and 
God.  Moreover,  he  had  written  no  treatise  on  theology 
proper.  Whether  he  ascribed  personality  or  conscious 
thought  to  God  was  more  than  doubtful.  His  God 
stood  at  the  apex  of  the  world's  pyramid,  inert,  abstract, 
empty,  and  devoid  of  life.  Christendom,  meanwhile, 
was  provided  with  a  robust  set  of  theological  opinions, 
based  on  revelation  and  held  as  matters  of  faith.  To 


SCHOLASTIC   SPECULATIONS.  469 

transfer  these  to  the  account  of  the  Aristotelian  Deity, 
to  fill  out  the  vacuous  and  formal  outline,  and  to 
theosophize  the  whole  system  was  the  work  of  S. 
Thomas.  To  the  fixed  dogmas  of  the  Latin  Church 
he  adjusted  the  more  favorable  of  Aristotle's  various 
definitions,  and  interpreted  his  dubious  utterances  by 
the  light  of  ecclesiastical  orthodoxy. 

Up  to  this  point  the  doctrine  of  personal  im- 
mortality had  been  accepted  by  all  Christians  as  re- 
quiring no  investigation.  Human  life  was  only  studied 
in  relation  to  the  world  beyond  the  grave,  where  each 
man  and  woman  was  destined  to  endure  for  all  eternity. 
To  traverse  this  fundamental  postulate,  was  to  pro- 
claim the  grossest  heresy;  and  though  Epicureans,  as 
Dante  calls  them,  of  that  type  were  found,  they  had 
not  formulated  their  opinions  regarding  the  soul's  cor- 
ruptibility in  any  scientific  theory,  nor  based  them  on 
the  authority  of  Aristotle.  S.  Thomas  viewed  the 
soul  as  the  essential  form  of  the  human  body;  he 
further  affirmed  its  separate  existence  in  each  person, 
and  its  separate  immortality.  The  soul,  he  thought, 
although  defined  as  the  form  of  a  physical  body,  ac- 
quired a  habit  of  existence  in  the  body,  which  sufficed 
for  its  independent  and  perpetual  survival.  These 
determinations  were  clearly  in  accordance  with  the 
Christian  faith.  But  the  time  was  approaching  when 
the  problem  of  the  soul  itself  should  be  narrowly  con- 
sidered. Averroes  had  interpreted  Aristotle  to  mean 
that  the  active  intellect  alone,  which  he  regarded  as 
common  to  all  human  beings,  was  immortal.  This 
was  tantamount  to  denying  the  immortality  of  the 
individual.  Men  live  and  die,  but  the  species  is 


470  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

eternal.  The  active  intellect  arrives  continually  at 
human  consciousness  in  persons,  who  participate  in  it 
and  perish.  Knowledge  is  indestructible  for  the  race, 
transitory  for  each  separate  soul.  At  one  end  of  the 
universal  hierarchy  is  matter;  at  the  other  end  is 
God.  Between  God  and  man  in  the  descending  scale 
are  the  intelligences  of  the  several  spheres.  From  the 
lowest  or  lunar  sphere  humanity  derives  the  active  in- 
tellect. This  active  intellect  is  a  substantial  entity, 
separate  no  less  from  God  than  from  the  human  soul 
on  which  it  rains  the  knowledge  of  a  lifetime.  It  is 
not  necessary  to  point  out  how  much  of  mystical  and 
Oriental  material  Averroes  ingrafted  on  Aristotle's  sys- 
tem. His  doctrine,  though  vehemently  repudiated  by 
orthodox  schoolmen,  found  wide  acceptance;  and  there 
were  other  heretics  who  asserted  the  perishable  nature 
of  the  human  soul,  without  distinction  of  its  faculties. 
These  heterodoxies  gained  ground  so  rapidly  through 
the  first  two  centuries  of  the  Italian  revival  (i  300-1600), 
that  in  December,  i5i3,  it  was  judged  needful  to  con- 
demn them,  and  to  reassert  the  Thomistic  doctrine  by 
a  Council  of  the  Lateran  over  which  Leo  X.  presided.1 
If  we  consider  the  intellectual  conditions  of  the 
Renaissance,  it  becomes  clear  why  the  problem  of 
Immortality  acquired  this  importance,  and  why  heretical 
opinions  spread  so  widely  as  to  necessitate  a  confirma- 
tion of  the  orthodox  dogma.  Medieval  speculation  had 

1  These  are  the  words:  "  Hoc  sTicro  approbante  Concilio  damnamus 
et  reprobamus  omnes  asserentes  animam  intellectivam  mortalem  esse, 
aut  unicam  in  cunctis  hominibus,  et  hasc  in  dubium  vertentes,  cum  ilia 
non  solum  vere  per  se  et  essentialiter  humani  corporis  forma  existat 
.  .  .  verum  et  immortalis,  et  pro  corporum  quibus  infunditur  multitu- 
dine,  singulariter  multiplicabilis  et  multiplicata  et  multiplicanda  sit." 


PROBLEM   OF  IMMORTALITY.  471 

a  perpetual  tendency  to  transcend  the  sphere  of  this 
earth.  The  other  world  gave  reality  and  meaning 
to  human  life.  All  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  Beyond, 
at  first  with  an  immediate  expectation  of  the  Judg- 
ment, afterwards  with  a  continued  looking  forward 
to  Paradise  or  Punishment.  This  attitude  toward 
eternity  was  an  absorbing  preoccupation.  But  with 
the  dawn  of  the  new  age  our  life  on  earth  acquired 
a  deeper  significance;  and  the  question  was  not 
unnaturally  posed — this  soul,  whose  immortality  has 
been  postulated,  on  whose  ultimate  destiny  so  many 
anticipations  of  weal  and  woe  have  been  based,  what 
is  it  ?  Are  we  justified  in  assuming  its  existence 
as  an  incorruptible  and  everlasting  self?  What  did 
Aristotle  really  think  about  it  ?  The  age  inclined 
with  overmastering  bias  toward  a  practical  material- 
ism. Men  were  eager  to  enjoy  their  lives  and  to  in- 
dulge their  appetites.  They  tired  of  the  restrictions 
imposed  upon  their  nature  by  the  prospect  of  futurity. 
They  found  in  their  cherished  classics,  whose  au- 
thority had  triumphed  over  Church  and  Council,  but 
vague  and  visionary  hints  of  immortality.  Even  in 
the  highest  ecclesiastical  quarters  it  was  fashionable 
to  speak  lightly  of  the  fundamental  dogmas  of  the 
Christian  creed.  Leo  X.,  who  presided  over  the 
Lateran  Council  of  i5i3,  did  not  disguise  his  doubts 
concerning  the  very  doctrine  it  had  re-enforced.  The 
time  had  come  for  a  reconsideration  ab  initio  of  a 
theory  which  the  middle  ages  had  accepted  as  an 
axiom.  The  battle  was  fought  out  on  the  ground  of  A  ris- 
totle's  treatise  on  the  soul.  Independent  research  had 
not  yet  asserted  its  claims  against  authority;  and  the 


473  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

problem  which  now  presented  itself  to  the  professors 
and  students  of  Italy,  was  not:  Is  the  soul  immortal  ? 
but:  Did  Aristotle  maintain  the  immortality  of  the  soul  ? 
The  philosopher  of  Stagira,  having  been  treated  on  his 
first  appearance  as  a  foe  of  the  faith  and  then  accepted 
as  its  bulwark,  was  now  to  be  used  as  an  efficient  bat- 
tering-ram against  the  castles  of  orthodox  opinion. 

There  were  two  ways  of  regarding  Aristotle's  doc- 
trine of  the  active  intellect.  The  one  was  to  view  the 
Nous  as  a  development  from  the  soul,  which  in  its 
turn  should  be  conceived  as  a  development  from  the 
senses.  The  other  was  to  recognize  it  as  separate 
from  the  soul  and  imported  from  without.  Each 
claimed  substantial  support  in  various  dicta  of  the 
master.  The  latter  found  able  exposition  at  the  hands 
of  his  Arabic  commentator  Averroes.  The  former 
was  maintained  by  the  fullest  and  latest  of  the  Greek 
peripatetics,  Alexander  of  Aphrodisias.  In  the  later 
middle  ages  free  thought,  combating  the  Thomistic 
system,  inclined  to  Averroism.  Pomponazzi,  the  chief 
Aristotelian  of  the  Renaissance,  declared  for  Alexander. 
His  great  work,  De  Immortalitate  Animtz,  is  little 
more  than  an  attempt  to  reconstruct  the  doctrine  of 
Aristotle  by  the  help  of  Alexander.  Pomponazzi 
starts  by  laying  down  the  double  nature  of  the  human 
soul.  It  is  both  sensitive  and  intelligent.  On  this 
point  philosophers  are  agreed;  the  questions  at  issue 
relate  to  the  mode  of  connection  between  the  two 
portions,  and  the  prospect  of  immortality  for  both  or 
either.  He  next  proceeds  to  state  the  opinions  of 
Averroes,  the  Platonists,  and  Thomas  of  Aquino, 
meeting  their  several  arguments,  and  showing  how  and 


POMPONAZZPS    CRITIQUE.  473 

where  they  diverge  from  Aristotle,  and  endeavoring 
to  prove  the  superiority  of  his  master's  doctrine. 
Pomponazzi  agrees  with  S.  Thomas  as  to  the  division 
of  the  soul  and  its  relation  to  the  body.  He  differs 
with  him  on  the  point  of  immortality,  declaring  with 
sufficient  clearness  that  no  portion  of  the  human  soul 
can  be  other  than  perishable.  If  we  admit  that  the 
soul  in  general  is  the  act  or  form  of  the  body,  the  in- 
telligent portion  of  the  soul  is  included  in  this  defini- 
tion. It  cannot  dispense  with  the  body,  at  least  as 
the  object  of  its  intelligent  activity.  But  if  it  be  thus 
intimately  bound  up  with  the  body,  it  must  suffer  cor- 
ruption with  the  body ;  or  even  should  we  suppose  it 
to  survive,  it  will  have  no  images  or  phantasms  fur- 
nished by  the  senses,  which  are  the  necessary  pabulum 
of  its  thinking  faculty.1  The  order  of  nature  admits 
of  no  interruption.  It  will  not  do  to  say  that  the  soul 
thinks  in  one  way  during  life  on  earth,  and  in  another 
way  after  death.  This  contradicts  the  first  principle 
of  continuity.  Man  occupies  a  middle  place  between 
imperishable  and  perishable  things.2  He  has  a  certain 
odor  of  immateriality,  a  mere  shadow  of  intellect, 
because  he  stands  upon  the  confine  between  these 

1  Cap.  viii.     "  Cum  et  Aristoteles  dicat,  necesse  esse  intelligentem 
phantasma  aliquod  specular!."    Again,  ibid.'.  "Ergo  in  omni  suo  intel- 
ligere  indiget  phantasia,  sed  si  sic  est,  ipsa  est  materialis;  ergo  anima 
intellectiva  est  materialis."    Again,  ibid.:  "  Humanus  intellectus  corpus 
habet  caducum,  quare  vel  corrupto  corpore  ipse  non  esset,  quod  posi- 
tioni  repugnat,  vel  si  esset,  sine  opere  esset,  cum  sine  phantasmate  per 
positionem  intelligere  non  posset  et  sic  otiaretur." 

2  Cap.  ix.    "  Et  sic  medio  modo  humanus  intellectus  inter  materialia 
et  immaterialia  est  actus  corporis  organici."     Again,  ibid.:  "  Ipse  igitur 
intellectus  sic  medius  existens  inter  materialia  et  immaterialia."    Again, 
ibid.-.  "  Homo  est  medius  inter  Deos  et  bestias,  quare  sicut  pallidum  com- 
paratum  nigro  dicitur  album,  sic  homo,  comparatus  bestiis,  dici  potest 
Deus  et  immortalis,  sed  non  vere  et  simpliciter." 


474  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

regions.1  But  his  very  conduct  shows  how  vain  and 
unsubstantial  is  his  claim  to  pure  reason.  If  we  see  a 
few  men  elevate  themselves  toward  God,  there  are 
thousands  who  descend  toward  the  brutes;  and  of 
those  who  spend  their  lives  in  clarifying  their  intelli- 
gence, none  can  boast  of  more  than  an  obscure  and 
cloudy  vision.2  In  the  hierarchy  of  souls  we  can 
broadly  distinguish  three  grades;  the  pure  intelligences 
of  the  astral  spheres,  who  have  no  need  of  physical 
organs;  the  souls  of  brutes,  immersed  in  matter,  and 
no  better  than  a  mode  of  it ;  the  souls  of  men,  which 
occupy. a  middle  place,  requiring  matter  as  the  object 
of  their  thought,  but  rising  by  speculation  above  it. 
Even  so  within  the  mind  of  man  we  may  discern  a 
triple  series  —  the  factive,  practical,  and  speculative 
intellects.  The  first  subserves  utility;  man  shares  it 
with  the  brutes.  The  third  enables  him  to  lift  himself 
toward  God.  The  second  is  essentially  human ;  he 
uses  it  in  moral  action,  and  performs  his  duty  by 
obeying  it.  Both  the  sensitive  soul  and  the  intellect 
are  material  in  the  full  sense  of  extension.3  To  con- 
ceive of  them  otherwise  is  contradictory  to  reason  and 
to  Aristotle.  It  is  therefore  impossible  to  hold  that 
either  soul  or  intellect,  although  the  latter  has  certain 
affinities  to  imperishable  intelligence,  should  survive 
the  body.  The  senses  supply  the  object  of  thought ; 

1  Cap.  viii.  "Vixque  sit  umbra  intellects. "  Again,  cap.  ix.:  "Cum 
ipsa  sit  materialium  nobilissima,  in  confinioque  immaterialium,  aliquid 
immaterialitatis  odorat,  sed  non  siropliciter." 

*  See  (cap.  viii.)  the  passage  which  begins  "  Secundo  quia  cum  in  ista 
essentia." 

3  See  the  passages  quoted  above;  and  compare  De  Nutritione,  lib.  i. 
cap.  1 1.  which  contains  Pomponazzi's  most  mature  opinion  on  the  material 
extension  of  the  soul,  which  he  calls,  in  all  its  faculties,  realiter  exttnsa. 


PSYCHOLOGY  AND   ETHICS. 


475 


the  phantasms  dealt  with  by  the  intellect  depend  upon 
the  physical  organs:  abstract  these,  and  where  is  the 
cogitative  faculty  ?  Having  thus  attempted  to  demon- 
strate the  mortality  of  the  human  soul,  Pomponazzi 
feels  bound  to  attack  the  problem  of  the  final  end  of 
human  beings.  Hitherto,  throughout  the  ages  of 
Christianity,  men  had  lived  on  this  world  with  eternity 
in  view.  That  was  their  aim  and  goal.  He  has  re- 
moved this  object;  and  he  anticipates  hostile  argument 
by  affirming  that  virtue  itself  is  the  proper  end  of  man 
on  earth.  The  practical  intellect  is  the  attribute  of 
humanity  as  distinguished  both  from  the  brutes  and 
from  the  separate  intelligences  of  the  spheres.  To  act 
in  accordance  with  the  nature  of  this  specific  quality— 
in  other  words,  to  follow  virtue — is  the  end  of  man. 
Virtue  is  her  own  reward,  as  vice  is  its  own  punish- 
ment.1 The  question  whether  the  soul  be  mortal  or 
immortal,  whether  we  have  a  right  to  expect  future 
judgment  or  not,  has  really  nothing  to  do  with  the 
matter.2  With  this  ethical  conclusion  Pomponazzi 
terminates  his  argument.  He  is  careful,  however,  to 
note  that  though  he  disbelieves  in  the  immortality  of 
the  soul  as  a  philosopher,  he  accepts  it  in  the  fullest 
sense  as  a  Christian.3  It  has  been  suggested  that  the 

1  De  Immortalitate,  cap.  xiv.    After  demonstrating  that  the  intellec- 
tu s  practicu s,  as  distinguished  from  the  speculativus  and  thefactivus, 
is  the  special  property  of  man,  and  that  consequently  in  Ethics  we  have 
the  true  science  of  humanity,  he  lays  down  and  tries  to  demonstrate  the 
two  positions  that  (i)  "  prasmium  essentiale  virtutis  est  ipsamet  virtus 
quze  hominem  felicem  facit;"  (2)  "pcena  vitiosi  est  ipsum  vitium,  quo 
nihil  miserius,  nihil  infelicius  esse  potest." 

2  For  this  argument  he  refers  to  Plato  in  cap.  xiv.:  "Sive  animus 
mortalis  sit,  sive  immortalis,  nihilominus  .contemnenda  est  mors,  neque 
alio  pacto  declinandum  est  a  virtute  quicquid  accidat  post  mortem." 

s  See  especially  the  exordium  to  cap.  viii. 


476  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

orthodox  doctrine  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body 
might  have  supplied  Pomponazzi  with  a  link  between 
science  and  faith.1  However,  he  did  not  avail  himself 
of  it;  and  his  philosophy  stands  in  abrupt  and  open 
conflict  with  his  creed. 

The  treatise  De  Incantatione  presents  the  same 
antithesis  between  Peripatetic  science  and  Christian 
faith.  Pomponazzi  composed  it  at  the  instance  of  a 
physician,  his  friend,  who  begged  him  to  offer  an  ex- 
planation of  some  apparently  supernatural  phenomena. 
It  is,  in  fact,  an  essay  upon  demons  and  miracles.  As 
a  philosopher,  Pomponazzi  stoutly  rejects  both.  The 
order  of  nature  cannot  be  interrupted.  Angels  and 
devils  only  exist  in  the  popular  imagination.  Miracles 
are  but  imperfectly  comprehended  manifestations  of 
natural  forces,  which  the  vulgar  ascribe  to  the  interven- 
tion of  God  or  spirits.2  Each  religion  has  its  own 
miracles  and  its  own  saints,  to  whom  the  common  folk 
attribute  supernatural  power.3  But  Moses,  Mahomet 
and  Christ  stand  upon  the  same  level;  the  thauma- 
turgists  of  every  creed  are  equally  unable  to  alter  the 
universal  order.4  Credulity  and  ignorance  ascribe  to 
all  of  them  faculties  they  cannot  possess.  Having,  as 
a  philosopher,  expressed  these  revolutionary  ideas, 
as  a  Christian,  he  briefly  and  summarily  states  his 
belief  in  all  that  he  has  just  denied.5 

Basing  his  argument  upon  the  ground  of  reason, 
which,  for  him,  was  no  other  than  the  Aristotelian 
doctrine  of  the  Cosmos,  Pomponazzi  recognizes  no 

1  Ritter,  Geschichte  der  Christlichen  Philosophic,  part  v.  p.  426, 
quoted  by  Fiorentino,  op.  cit. 

»  De  Incant.  cap.  3.  3  fl,id.  cap.  4. 

*  Ibid.  cap.  12.  »  Peroration  of  De  Incant. 


ANTAGONISM  OF  FAITH  AND   REASON.  477 

agency  that  interrupts  the  sequence  of  cause  and  effect 
in  nature.  But  the  astral  intelligences  are  realities, 
and  their  operation  has  been  as  clearly  ascertained  as 
that  of  any  other  natural  force.  Therefore  Pompon- 
azzi  refers  to  the  planets  many  extraordinary  exhi- 
bitions of  apparently  abnormal  power,  conceding  upon 
this  point  as  much  as  could  have  been  desired  by  the 
most  superstitious  of  his  contemporaries.  Not  only 
are  the  lives  of  men  subject  to  planetary  influence; 
but  all  human  institutions  rise,  flourish  and  decay  in 
obedience  to  the  same  superior  laws.  Even  religions 
have  their  day  of  inevitable  decline,  and  Christianity 
is  no  exception  to  the  general  rule.  At  the  present 
moment,  says  Pomponazzi,  we  may  discern  signs  of 
approaching  dissolution  in  the  fabric  of  our  creed.1 
He  is  careful  to  add,  as  usual,  that  he  holds  this  doc- 
trine as  a  philosopher;  but  that,  as  a  Christian,  he 
believes  in  the  permanence  of  revealed  religion.  Faith 
and  reason  could  not  be  brought  into  more  glaring 
antagonism,  nor  is  it  possible  to  affirm  contradictory 
propositions  with  less  attempt  at  reconciliation.  Pom- 
ponazzi seems  determined  to  act  out  by  anticipation 
Pascal's  axiom,  //  faut  tire  Pyrrhonniste  accompli  et 
Chretien  soumis.  What  the  real  state  of  his  mind  was, 
and  whether  the  antithesis  which  seems  to  us  so  unten- 
able, did  not  present  itself  to  him  as  an  anomaly,  hardly 
admits  of  explanation.  A  similar  unresolved  discord 
may  be  traced  in  nearly  all  the  thinkers  of  this  epoch. 

It  remains  to  mention  one  more  treatise  of  Pom- 
ponazzi, the  Book  on  Fate.  Here  he  raises  the 
question  of  human  freedom  face  to  face  with  God  and 

J  De  Incant.  cap.  12. 


478  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

the  unbroken  order  of  the  Universe.  The  conclusions 
at  which  he  arrives  are  vacillating  and  unsatisfactory ; 
nor  is  there  much  in  his  method  of  handling  this 
ancient  problem  to  arrest  attention.  The  essay,  how- 
ever, contains  one  sentence  which  deserves  to  be 
recorded.  "  A  very  Prometheus,"  he  says,  "  is  the 
philosopher.  Seeking  to  penetrate  the  secret  things  of 
God,  he  is  consumed  with  ceaseless  cares  and  cogita- 
tions ;  he  forgets  to  thirst,  to  hunger,  to  eat,  to  sleep, 
to  spit;  he  is  derided  of  all  men,  and  held  for  a  fool 
and  sacrilegious  person;  he  is  persecuted  by  inquis- 
itors ;  he  becomes  a  gazing-stock  to  the  common  folk. 
These,  then,  are  the  gains  of  the  philosophers ;  these 
are  their  guerdons." l  Not  only  were  these  words 
spoken  from  the  man's  own  heart,  smarting  under  the 
attacks  to  which  his  treatise  on  the  soul  had  exposed 
him;  but  they  were  in  a  profound  sense  prophetic. 
While  reading  them,  we  think  of  Campanella's  life- 
long imprisonment  and  sevenfold  tortures ;  of  Bruno's 
death  by  fire,  and  Vanini's  tongue  torn  out  before  his 
execution ;  of  Galileo's  recantation  and  disgrace  ;  of 
Carnesecchi,  Paleario  and  Montalcino  burned  or 
strangled.  A  whole  procession  of  Italian  martyrs  to 
free  thought  and  bold  avowal  of  opinion  passes  before 
our  eyes. 

Reviewing  Pomponazzi's  work,  we  find  that, 
though  he  occupied  for  the  most  part  the  modest 
place  of  a  commentator  and  expositor,  he  valiantly 
asserted  the  rights  of  reason  face  to  face  with  ecclesias- 
tical authority.  Under  the  aegis  of  the  formula  salvA 
fide,  he  attacked  the  popular  belief,  disputed  the  fiats 

1  De  Fato,  lib.  iii.  cap.  7. 


POMPONAZZPS   POSITIVISM, 


479 


of  Church  Councils,  denied  miracles,  rejected  super- 
natural causes,  and  proclaimed  that  science  must  be 
based  upon  the  axiom  of  an  unalterable  permanence 
in  the  order  of  the  universe.  The  controversy  which 
his  treatise  on  immortality  inflamed  in  Italy,  popular- 
ized the  two  conceptions  of  God's  immanence  in  nature 
and  of  the  evolution  of  the  human  soul  from  corporeal 
organs.  In  other  words  it  struck  a  powerful  blow  at 
transcendental,  extra-mundane  speculation,  and  pre- 
pared the  way  for  sounder  physical  investigations. 
The  positive  spirit  appeared  in  Pomponazzi,  never 
thenceforward  to  be  set  at  rest  until  the  cycle  of 
modern  scientific  illumination  shall  be  accomplished. 

The  deep  impression  produced  by  this  controversy 
on  the  mind  of  the  Italians,  may  be  illustrated  by  a 
little  story.  Pomponazzi's  disciple,  Simone  Porzio, 
when  invited  to  lecture  at  Pisa,  opened  Aristotle's 
meteorological  treatises  at  the  commencement  of  his 
course.  The  assembly,  composed  of  students  and 
people  of  the  town,  who  had  assembled,  as  was  then 
the  custom,  to  gaze  upon  the  new  professor"  and  to 
judge  his  manner,1  cried  in  a  loud  voice :  "  Quid  de 
anim&f  Speak  to  us  about  the  soul!"  He  had  to 
close  his  book,  and  take  up  the  De  Animfr.  This 
Porzio  frankly  professed  his  belief  that  the  human 
soul  differed  in  no  essential  point  from  the  soul  of  a 
lion  or  a  plant,  and  that  those  who  thought  otherwise, 
were  prompted  by  a  generous  pity  for  our  mean  estate.2 

'  An  interesting  description  of  a  humanist  opening  his  course  at 
Padua,  and  of  the  excitement  in  the  town  about  it,  is  furnished  by  the 
anonymous  Maccaronic  poet  who  sang  the  burlesque  praises  of  Vigonfa. 
See  Delepierre,  Macaroneana  Andra,  London,  1862.  Above,  p.  331. 

2  He  makes  these  assertions  in  a  treatise  DC  Mcnte  Humana. 


480  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Materialism  of  the  purest  water  became  fashionable, 
and  expressed  itself  in  pithy  sentences,  which,  though 
devoid  of  historical  accuracy,  sufficiently  paint  the 
temper  of  the  folk  who  gave  them  currency.  Of  this 
type  is  the  apocryphal  epitaph  of  Cesare  Cremonini, 
one  of  the  latest  of  the  Italian  peripateticians.  He 
died  in  1631,  and  on  his  grave  was  said  to  have  been 
written  at  his  own  request  Hie  jacet  Cremoninus  totus. 
To  the  same  Cremonini  is  ascribed  the  Jesuitical  motto 
Forts  ut  mart's,  intus  ut  libet,  which  may  be  regarded 
as  a  cynical  version  of  Pomponazzi's  oft-repeated  pro- 
testation of  belief  in  dogmas  he  had  demonstrated 
contrary  to  reason.1  Had  it  been  possible  for  the 
Church  to  continue  her  tolerance  of  Leo's  age,  or  had 
the  Counter- Reformation  taken  a  direction  less  inimical 
to  free  inquiry,  the  studied  hypocrisy  of  this  epigram, 
so  painfully  characteristic  of  the  age  that  gave  it  birth, 
might  have  been  avoided.  The  men  who  uttered  it 
and  acted  by  it,  were  the  same  of  whom  Milton  spoke 
in  Areopagitica :  "  I  have  sat  among  their  learned  men 
(for  that  honor  I  had),  and  been  counted  happy  to  be 
born  in  such  a  place  of  philosophic  freedom  as  they 
supposed  England  was,  while  themselves  did  nothing 
but  bemoan  the  servile  condition  into  which  learning 
amongst  them  was  brought;  that  this  was  it  which 
had  damped  the  glory  of  Italian  wits;  that  nothing 
had  been  written  now  these  many  years  but  flattery 
and  fustian." 

Central  and  Northern  Italy  performed  the  first  two 

1  In  the  peroration  of  his  treatise  on  Incantation,  Pomponazzi  says: 
"  Habes  itaque,  compater  charissime,  quas,  ut  mea  fert  opinio,  Peripa- 
tetici  ad  ea  quae  quaesivisti,  dicere  verisimiliter  haberent.  Habes  et  quae 
veritati  et  Christianas  religioni  consona  sunt." 


SOUTH  ITALIAN   THINKERS.  481 

stages  of  Renaissance  thought.  Florence,  true  to  the 
destiny  which  made  her  artful  and  form-giving,  at- 
tempted to  restore  Platonic  philosophy  in  accordance 
with  the  conditions  determined  by  the  middle  ages. 
Bologna,  gifted  with  a  personality  no  less  substantial, 
adhered  to  scholastic  traditions,  but  accommodated 
their  rigid  subject-matter  to  the  spirit  breathed  upon 
them  by  more  liberal  scholarship.  It  remained  for 
the  South  of  Italy  to  complete  the  work,  and  to  sup- 
ply the  fulcrum  needed  for  the  first  true  effort  of 
modern  science.  Hitherto,  whether  at  Florence  or 
Bologna,  philosophy  had  recognized  authority.  Dis- 
carding the  yoke  of  the  Church,  both  Platonists  and 
Aristotelians  recognized  masters,  whose  words  they 
were  contented  to  interpret.  Reason  dared  not  de- 
clare herself,  except  beneath  the  mask  of  some  great 
teacher — Plato  or  Plotinus,  Aristotle  or  Alexander  or 
Averroes.  The  school  of  Cosenza  cut  itself  adrift 
from  authority,  ecclesiastical  or  classical.  This  is  the 
import  of  the  first  sonnet  in  Campanella's  series,  pre- 
served for  us  by  the  fortunate  mediation  of  his  disciple, 
the  German  with  the  Italianized  patronymic,  Tobia 
Adami1: 

Born  of  God's  Wisdom  and  Philosophy, 
Keen  lover  of  true  beauty  and  true  good, 
I  call  the  vain  self-traitorous  multitude 
Back  to  my  mother's  milk;  for  it  is  she, 

Faithful  to  God  her  spouse,  who  nourished  me, 
Making  me  quick  and  active  to  intrude 
Within  the  inmost  veil,  where  I  have  viewed 
And  handled  all  things  in  eternity. 


From  my  Sonnets  of  Michael  Angela  and  Campanella,  p.  119. 


482  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

If  the  whole  world's  our  home  where  we  may  run, 
Up,  friends,  forsake  those  secondary  schools 
Which  give  grains,  unit,s,  inches  for  the  whole! 

If  facts  surpass  mere  words,  melt  pride  of  soul, 
And  pain,  and  ignorance  that  hardens  fools, 
Here  in  the  fire  I've  stolen  from  the  Sun! 

Campanella  calls  the  students  of  truth  back  to  Nature 
from  the  "secondary  schools"  of  the  philosophers, 
Plato,  Aristotle,  Thomas  of  Aquino,  or  Averroes ;  who 
imposed  upon  their  reason  by  the  word  "  authority." 
In  his  fifth  sonnet  he  enforces  the  same  theme1: 

The  world's  the  book  where  the  eternal  sense 

Wrote  his  own  thoughts;  the  living  temple  where, 

Painting  his  very  self,  with  figures  fair 

He  filled  the  whole  immense  circumference. 

Here  then  should  each  man  read,  and  gazing  find 
Both  how  to  live  and  govern,  and  beware 
Of  godlessness;  and,  seeing  God  ail-where, 
Be  bold  to  grasp  the  universal  mind. 

But  we  tied  down  to  books  and  temples  dead, 
Copied  with  countless  errors  from  the  life, — 
These  nobler  than  that  school  sublime  we  call. 

O  may  our  senseless  souls  at  length  be  led, 
To  truth  by  pain,  grief,  anguish,  trouble,  strife! 

Turn  we  to  read  the  one  original! 

i 

Tyrants,  hypocrites  and  sophists — that  is  to  say,  the 
triple  band  of  State  and  Church  oppressors,  of  inter- 
ested ecclesiastics,  and  of  subtle  logicians — have  drawn 
their  threefold  veil  between  the  human  intelligence  and 
the  universe,  from  which  alone,  as  their  proper  home 
and  milieu,  men  must  derive  the  knowledge  that  belongs 
to  them.  Campanella,  with  the  sincerity  of  one  to 
whom  the  truth  is  dearer  than  his  own  reputation, 
yields  the  spolia  opima  of  this  latest  victory  over  the 
strongholds  of  authority  to  his  master — the  master 

1  Ibid.  p.  123. 


CAMPANELLA. 


483 


whom  he  never  knew  in  life,  but  over  whose  bier  he 
wept  and  prayed  in  secret,  hiding  the  fire  of  modern 
freedom  and  modern  science  beneath  the  black  cowl 
of  a  Dominican  friar1: 

Telesius,  the  arrow  from  thy  bow 

Midmost  his  band  of  sophists  slays  that  high 

Tyrant  of  souls  that  think;  he  cannot  fly: 

While  Truth  soars  free,  loosed  by  the  self-same  blow. 
Proud  lyres  with  thine  immortal  praises  glow, 

Smitten  by  bards  elate  with  victory: 

Lo,  thine  own  Cavalcante,  stormfully 

Lightning,  still  strikes  the  fortress  of  the  foe! 
Good  Gaieta  bedecks  our  saint  serene 

With  robes  translucent,  light-irradiate, 

Restoring  her  to  all  her  natural  sheen; 
The  while  my  tocsin  at  the  temple-gate 

Of  the  wide  universe  proclaims  her  queen, 

Pythia  of  first  and  last  ordained  by  fate. 

In  these  verses,  the  saint  and  queen  proclaimed  by 
Campanella  is  Nature.  During  the  middle  ages  truth 
had  seemed  to  descend  as  by  a  sort  of  inspiration  upon 
man  from  an  extra-mundane  God.  During  the  first 
and  second  periods  of  the  Renaissance  the  human 
intellect  repudiated  this  transcendentalism,  but  yielded 
itself,  a  willing  victim,  to  the  authority  of  books,  Plato 
or  Aristotle,  and  their  commentators.  Now  the  mind 
of  man  stands  face  to  face  with  nature,  and  knows  that 
there,  and  there  alone,  is  inspiration.  The  great 
Baconian  secret,  the  Interrogation  of  Nature,  has  been 
revealed.  It  is  now  acknowledged  on  all  sides  that 
not  what  Telesio  or  Campanella,  or  their  famous  dis- 
ciple, Bacon,  achieved  in  actual  discovery,  was  note- 
worthy. But  the  spirit  communicated  from  Telesio 
and  Campanella  to  Bacon,  is  the  spirit  of  modern 
science.  Meanwhile,  another  native  of  South  Italy, 

J  Ibid.  p.  174. 


484  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

Giordano  Bruno,  proclaimed  the  immanence  of  God  in 
the  world,  the  identification  of  the  universe  with  God 
in  thought,  the  impossibility  of  escaping  from  God  in 
nature,  because  nature,  realizing  God  for  the  human 
soul,  is  divine.  The  central  conception  of  the  third 
age  of  Italian  thought,  underlying  the  apparently  diver- 
gent systems  of  Campanella  and  Bruno — the  conception, 
namely,  of  a  real  and  indestructible  correlation  between 
the  human  spirit  and  the  actual  universe,  and  the  con- 
sequent reliance  of  the  human  consciousness  upon  its 
own  testimony  in  the  search  for  truth — contained  the 
germ  of  all  that  has,  in  very  various  regions,  been 
subsequently  achieved  by  French,  Dutch,  English,  and 
German  speculators.  Telesio  and  Campanella,  long 
before  Bacon,  founded  empirical  science.  Campanella 
and  Bruno,  long  before  Descartes,  established  the 
principle  of  idealistic  philosophy  in  the  self-conscious 
thinking  faculty  of  man.  The  sensualism  of  Telesio, 
the  spiritualism  of  Bruno,  and  Campanella's  dualism, 
foreshadow  all  possible  sects  of  empiricists,  rationalists 
and  eclectics,  which  have  since  divided  the  field  of 
modern  speculation.  It  is  easy  enough  now  to  look 
down  either  from  the  height  of  full-blown  transcendental 
metaphysics  or  from  the  more  modest  eminence  of 
solid  physical  science  upon  the  intellectual  abortions 
generated  by  this  potent  conception  in  its  earliest  fusion 
with  medieval  theology.  Yet  it  is  impossible  to  neglect 
the  negative  importance  of  the  work  effected  by  men 
who  declared  their  independence  of  ecclesiastical  and 
classical  authority  in  an  age  when  the  Church  and 
antiquity  contended  for  the  empire  of  the  human  reason. 
Still  less  possible  is  it  to  deny  the  place  of  Galileo, 


PHILOSOPHY   OF  NATURE.  485 

Descartes,  Bacon,  Spinoza,  among  the  offspring  be- 
gotten of  the  movement  which  Pomponazzi,  Telesio, 
Campanella  and  Bruno  inaugurated  and  developed. 

Thus,  therefore,  by  the  substitution  of  human  for 
revealed  authority;  by  the  suggestion  of  new  and  real 
topics  of  inquiry,  and  finally  by  the  repudiation  of  all 
authority  except  that  of  nature's  ascertained  laws;  by 
the  rending  of  all  veils  between  the  human  reason  and 
the  universe,  the  Italian  philosophers  of  the  Renais- 
sance effected  for  Europe  the  transition  from  the  middle 
ages  to  the  modern  era. 

What  is  the  link  of  connection  between  Machiavelli 
and  Pomponazzi,  the  two  leaders  of  Italian  thought  at 
the  height  of  the  Renaissance  ?  It  may  be  expressed 
in  one  formula — a  vivid  sense  of  man  and  the  world 
as  they  are;  or,  in  other  words,  positivism.  Machia- 
velli dispenses  with  Providence,  smiles  incredulously 
at  Fortune,  explains  all  social  and  historical  problems 
by  reference  to  the  will  and  thought  of  men  in  action. 
He  studies  human  nature  as  he  finds  it,  not  as  it  ought 
to  be  according  to  some  ideal  standard.  Pomponazzi 
shatters  transcendentalism  at  a  blow.  He  proves  that 
there  is  no  convincing  argument  for  immortality.  He 
demonstrates  that  the  end  of  man  is  to  be  found  in 
conduct.  He  treats  religions  without  exception  as 
transitory  institutions,  subject  to  the  universal  laws  of 
birth  and  corruption,  useful  to  society  in  their  day  of 
vigor,  but  destined  to  succeed  each  other  with  the 
waxino-  and  the  waning  of  the  influences  that  control 

• 

our  globe  and  all  that  it  contains.  On  this  point 
Machiavelli  and  Pomponazzi  are  in  complete  accord. 
Both  of  them  interpret  the  spirit  of  their  century. 


486  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

As  Machiavellism  existed  in  Italian  politics  before 
Machiavelli  theorized  it,  so  materialism  leavened  society 
before  Pomponazzi  gave  it  the  consistency  of  demon- 
stration. The  middle  ages  with  their  political  and  theo- 
logical idealism  were  at  an  end.  Machiavelli  and  Pom- 
ponazzi contemporaneously  philosophized  the  realism 
on  which  science  was  destined  to  be  founded.  They 
were  the  deicides  of  elder  faiths;  the  hierophants  of  a  new 
revelation,  as  yet  but  dimly  apprehended;  the  Columbus 
and  Vespucci  of  an  intellectual  hemisphere  which  it 
remained  for  their  posterity  to  colonize.  The  condi- 
tions of  public  and  private  life  in  the  Italian  cities — the 
decline  of  religious  feeling,  the  corruption  of  morality, 
the  paganizing  tendencies  of  humanism,  the  extinction 
of  political  activity,  the  decay  of  freedom,  the  survival 
of  the  Church  and  Commune  when  their  work  was 
ended — rendered  any  such  movement  as  that  of  the 
German  Reformation  wholly  impossible.  The  people 
lacked  the  spiritual  stuff  for  it.  We  have  seen  that 
it  was  chiefly  men  like  Berni  and  Folengo  who  gave 
open  utterance  to  Lutheran  opinions;  and  from  sources 
like  those  no  pure  or  vivifying  waters  could  be  drawn. 
Italy's  work  lay  in  another  direction.  Those  very  con- 
ditions which  unfitted  her  for  a  religious  revival,  enabled 
her  to  perform  her  true  mission.  It  was  no  slight 
achievement  to  have  set  up  the  pillars  of  Hercules  for 
transcendentalism,  and  at  the  same  time  to  have  dis- 
covered the  continent  of  positive  science.  For  the 
fruits  and  recognition  of  her  labors  she  has  had  to 
wait.  Her  history  since  the  date  of  Machiavelli 's 
death  has  been  obscure  until  the  middle  of  this  cen- 
tury, and  in  the  race  of  the  nations  she  has  been  left 


LIBERATION  OF   THE   REASON.  487 

behind.1  But  the  perturbation  of  the  intellectual  cur- 
rent caused  by  the  Reformation  is  now  nearly  over, 
and  the  spirit  of  modern  science  still  finds  itself  in 
harmony  with  that  of  the  Italian  thinkers  who  gave  it 
earliest  expression. 

1  It  may  be  worth  reminding  the  reader  that  Pomponazzi  died  in 
1525,  and  Machiavelli  in  1527 — the  year  of  Rome's  disaster.  Their 
births  also  were  nearly  synchronous.  Pomponazzi  was  born  in  1462, 
Machiavelli  in  1469. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

CONCLUSION. 

Retrospect — Meaning  of  the  Renaissance — Modern  Science  and  Democ- 
racy— The  Preparation  of  an  Intellectual  Medium  for  Europe — The 
Precocity  of  Italy — Servitude  and  Corruption — Antiquity  and  Art — 
The  Italian  Provinces  —  Florence  —  Lombardy  and  Venice  —  The 
March  of  Ancona,  Urbino,  Umbria — Perugia — Rome — Sicily  and 
Naples — Italian  Ethnology — Italian  Independence  on  the  Empire  and 
the  Church — Persistence  of  the  Old  Italic  Stocks — The  New  Nation 
— Its  Relation  to  the  Old — The  Revival  of  Learning  was  a  National 
Movement — Its  Effect  on  Art — On  Literature — Resumption  of  the 
Latin  Language — Affinities  between  the  Latin  and  Italian  Genius — 
Renascence  of  Italian  Literature  combined  with  Humanism — Greek 
Studies  comparatively  Uninfluential — The  Modern  Italians  inherited 
Roman  Qualities — Roman  Defects — Elimination  of  Roman  Satire — 
Decay  of  Roman  Vigor  —  Italian  Realism  —  Positivism  —  Sensuous- 
ness —  Want  of  Mystery,  Suggestion,  Romance  —  The  Intellectual 
Atmosphere  —  A  Literature  of  Form  and  Diversion  —  Absence  of 
Commanding  Genius — Lack  of  Earnestness — Lack  of  Piety — Mater- 
ialism and  Negation — Idyllic  Beauty — The  Men  of  the  Golden  Age 
— The  Cult  of  Form— Italy's  Gifts  to  Europe— The  Renaissance  is  not 
to  be  Imitated — Its  Importance  in  Human  Development — Feudalism, 
Renaissance,  Reformation,  Revolution. 

AT  the  end  of  a  long  journey  it  is  natural  to  review 
the  stages  of  the  way  that  has  been  traversed.  We 
resume  the  impressions  made  upon  our  mind,  and 
extract  that  element  of  generality  from  recollection, 
which  the  rapid  succession  of  scenes,  incidents  and 
interests  denied  to  the  experience  of  travel.  In  like 
manner,  those  who  have  been  engaged  in  some  his- 
torical inquiry,  after  examining  each  province  of  the 
subject  separately,  seek  a  vantage-ground  of  contenv 


RETROSPECT.  489 

plation,  whence  the  conclusions  they  have  reached  can 
be  surveyed  in  their  relation  to  each  other. 

What  we  call,  for  want  of  a  better  name,  the  Renais- 
sance, was  a  period  of  transition  from  the  middle  ages 
to  the  first  phase  of  modern  life.  It  was  a  step  which 
had  to  be  made,  at  unequal  distances  of  time  and  under 
varying  influences,  by  all  the  peoples  of  the  European 
community.  Its  accomplishment  brought  the  several 
members  of  that  community  into  international  relation- 
ship, and  formed  a  confederation  of  reciprocally  balanced 
powers  out  of  the  Occidental  races  who  shared  the 
inheritance  of  imperial  Rome.  At  the  commencement 
of  this  period,  the  modern  nations  acquired  consistency 
and  fixity  of  type.  Mutually  repelled  by  the  principle  of 
nationality,  which  made  of  each  a  separate  organism, 
obeying  its  own  laws  of  growth  according  to  peculiari- 
ties of  climate,  blood  and  social  institutions,  they  were 
at  the  same  time  drawn  and  knit  together  by  a  common 
bond  of  intellectual  activities  and  interests.  The  crea- 
tion of  this  international  consciousness  or  spirit,  which, 
after  the  lapse  of  four  centuries,  justifies  us  in  regarding 
the  past  history  of  Europe  as  the  history  of  a  single 
family,  and  encourages  us  to  expect  from  the  future  a 
still  closer  interaction  of  the  Western  nations,  can  be 
ascribed  in  a  great  measure  to  the  Renaissance.  One 
distinctive  feature  of  that  epoch  was,  reaction  against 
the  main  forces  of  the  middle  ages.  And  since 
reaction  implies  a  vivid  principle  of  vitality,  we  find,  in 
the  further  progress  of  this  movement,  the  new  ideas 
of  democracy  and  science  counterposed  to  feudalism 
and  the  Church.  So  vast  a  revolution  as  the  recon- 
struction of  society  upon  new  bases,  could  not  be 


490  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

effected  by  any  simple  or  continuously  progressive 
process.  The  nations  educated  by  the  Church  and 
disciplined  by  feudalism,  could  not  pass  into  a  new 
phase  of  being  without  checks,  hesitations,  retrogres- 
sions, hindrances  innumerable.  Nor  was  it  to  be 
expected  that  the  advance  of  each  member  in  the 
European  community  should  proceed  upon  an  exactly 
similar  method,  or  with  equally  felicitous  results.  It 
was  inevitable  that  both  feudalism  and  the  Church 
should  long  remain  in  liquidation,  resisting  the  impact 
of  skepticism  inherent  in  the  Reformation ;  opposing 
stubborn  resistance  to  republican  energy  liberated  by 
the  Revolution ;  crystallizing  the  counter-movement  of 
the  modern  spirit  at  one  point  in  monarchical  absolutism, 
at  another  in  Protestant  establishments ;  receding  from 
this  rebellious  province  to  fortify  and  garrison  that 
loyal  stronghold;  tolerating  no  compromise  here,  and 
there  achieving  a  temporary  triumph  by  transaction 
with  the  steadily-advancing  forces  ranged  against  them. 
The  battle  even  now  is  being  waged  with  varying 
success  over  the  wide  field  of  Europe;  and  whatever 
may  be  our  conviction  as  to  the  ultimate  issue  of  the 
struggle,  it  is  impossible  to  foresee  a  definite  end,  or 
to  assign  even  probable  limits  to  the  extent  and  the 
duration  of  the  conflict. 

Although  we  may  hold  the  opinion  that  science  and 
democracy  constitute  the  fundamental  points  in  modern 
as  distinguished  from  medieval  history,  it  would  be 
paradoxical  to  assert  that  they  emerged  into  prominence 
during  the  initial  stage  of  the  Renaissance.  A  common 
intellectual  atmosphere  had  first  to  be  prepared  for 
Europe.  The  sense  of  human  freedom  had  to  be 


EUROPEAN  CULTURE. 


491 


acquired  by  studies  and  discoveries  which  made  man 
master  of  himself  and  of  the  world  around  him.  His 
attention  had  to  be  diverted  from  the  life  beyond  the 
grave  to  his  life  upon  this  planet.  The  culture,  which 
formed  the  great  achievement  of  the  Italian  Renaissance 
and  which  was  diffused  through  Europe,  uniting  men 
of  all  races  and  all  creeds  in  speculative  and  literary 
activity,  evoking  sympathies  and  stimulating  antago- 
nisms upon  vital  questions  of  universal  import,  was 
necessary  for  the  evolution  of  the  modern  world  as  we 
now  know  it.  In  many  senses  we  have  already  tran- 
scended the  original  conditions  of  that  culture.  But  we 
owe  to  it  our  spiritual  solidarity,  our  feeling  of  intel- 
lectual identity,  our  habit  of  pouring  convergent  contri- 
butions from  divers  quarters  into  the  stock  of  indestruct- 
ible experience. 

Quickened  to  livelier  consciousness  by  contact  with 
the  masterpieces  of  antiquity,  in  the  dawn  of  that  new 
age,  the  reason  rapidly  engaged  in  exploratory  expedi- 
tions. Both  human  nature  and  the  material  universe 
presented  themselves  with  altered  aspect  to  thought 
and  senses,  which  had  lain  dormant  during  centuries  of 
incubation.  At  first,  like  the  blind  man  of  the  miracle, 
the  awakening  intelligence  saw  confusedly.  It  is  easy 
with  our  clearer  vision  to  despise  the  hybrid  fancies  of 
a  time  when  things  old  and  new  were  so  romantically 
blent — "  the  men  as  trees,  walking,"  of  that  inexperienced 
intuition,  the  childish  science  and  the  scarce-fledged 
criticism  of  discoverers,  who,  while  they  reached  forth 
to  the  future,  still  retained  the  hold  of  custom  and  long 
reverence  on  the  past.  A  note  of  imperfection,  vacilla- 
tion, tentative  endeavor,  can  be  traced  in  all  the  pro- 


492  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

ductions  of  the  Renaissance — everywhere,  in  fact,  but 
in  the  fine  arts,  where  a  simpler  insight  and  more 
unimpeded  faculties  were  exercised  at  that  period  than 
the  last  three  centuries  have  boasted.  In  another 
important  department  the  men  of  that  age  proved 
themselves  more  than  merely  precocious  and  immature. 
The  humanistic  system  of  mental  training  has  survived 
with  little  alteration  to  the  present  day,  and  still  forms 
the  basis  of  what  is  called  a  liberal  education. 

This  transition  from  the  middle  ages  to  the  modern 
era,  which  we  designate  by  the  metaphor  of  Renascence 
or  new  birth,  made  itself  first  powerfully  felt  in  Italy. 
Of  all  the  European  nations,  the  Italians  alone  can 
boast  of  a  great  and  uninterrupted  history,  extending 
over  the  twenty-five  centuries  which  are  known  to  us 
by  tolerably  trustworthy  records.  They  first  gave  the 
civilization  of  republican  and  imperial  Rome  to  the 
Western  world.  They  formed  the  Latin  Church,  and 
extended  the  organization  of  ecclesiastical  Rome  to 
European  Christendom.  This  was  their  double  work 
in  what  we  call  the  ancient  and  medieval  periods.  At 
the  close  of  the  latter,  they  inaugurated  the  age  of 
culture,  science  and  associated  intellectual  endeavor, 
in  which  we  are  now  living.  In  Italy  the  people  pre- 
served unbroken  memories  of  their  classical  past ;  and, 
as  we  have  seen  throughout  these  volumes,  the  point 
of  departure  for  modern  reconstruction  was  a  renewed 
and  vital  interest  in  antiquity.  Here,  too,  the  charac- 
teristic institutions  of  feudalism  had  taken  but  slight 
hold,  while  the  secularization  of  the  Papacy  had  under- 
mined the  spiritual  prestige  of  the  Church.  Thus 
the  forces  to  be  overcome  were  feebler  in  Italy  than 


THE    TASK  OF    THE   ITALIANS.  493 

elsewhere,   while    the    current    of   fresh    energy    was 
stronger. 

The  conditions  under  which  the  Italians  performed 
their  task  in  the  Renaissance  were  such  as  seem  at 
first    sight    unfavorable    to    any    grea£    achievement. 
Yet  it  is  probable  that,  the  end  m^tfiew  being  the 
stimulation  of  mental  activity,  no  tester-  circumstances 
than  they  enjoyed  could  have  been  provided.     Owing 
to  a  series  of  adverse  accidents,  and  dwing  also  to  their 
own  instinctive  preference  for  jocal  institutions,  they 
failed   to    attain    the    coherence    and    the    centralized 
organization  which  are  necessary  to  a  nation  as  we 
understand  that  word.     Thlfir  dismemberment  among  I 
rival   communities   pro'ved  a  fatal   source   of  political  1 
and  military  weakness,  but  it  developed  all  their  in-J 
tellectual  energies  by  competition  to  the  utmost. 

At  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century  their  com- 
munes had  lost  political  liberty,  and  were  ruled  by 
despots.  Martial  spirit  declined.  Wars  were  carried 
on  by  mercenaries;  and  the  people  found  itself  in  a 
state  of  practical  disarmament,  when  the  neighboring 
nations  quarreled  for  the  prize  of  those  rich  provinces. 
At  the  same  time  society  underwent  a  rapid  moral  de- 
terioration. When  Machiavelli  called  Italy  "the  cor- 
ruption of  the  world,"  he  did  not  speak  rhetorically. 
An  impure  and  worldly  clergy ;  an  irreligious,  though 
superstitious,  laity;  a  self-indulgent  and  materialistic 
middle  class ;  an  idle  aristocracy,  excluded  from  politics 
and  unused  to  arms ;  a  public  given  up  to  pleasure  and 
money-getting;  a  multitude  of  scholars,  devoted  to 
trifles,  and  vitiated  by  studies  which  clashed  with  the 
ideals  of  Christianity — from  such  elements  in  the 


494  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

nation  proceeded  a  widely-spread  and  ever-increasing 
degeneracy.  Public  energy,  exhausted  by  the  civil 
wars  and  debilitated  by  the  arts  of  the  tyrants,  sank 
deep  and  deeper  into  the  lassitude  of  acquiescent 
lethargy.  Religion  expired  in  laughter,  irony  and 
license.  Domestic  simplicity  yielded  to  vice,  whereof 
the  records  are  precise  and  unmistakable.  The  virile 
virtues  disappeared.  What  survived  of  courage  as- 
sumed the  forms  of  ruffianism,  ferocity  and  treasona- 
ble daring.  Still,  simultaneously  with  this  decline  in 
all  the  moral  qualities  which  constitute  a  powerful 
people,  the  Italians  brought  their  arts  and  some  de- 
partments of  their  literature  to  a  perfection  that  can 
only  be  paralleled  by  ancient  Greece.  The  anomaly 
implied  in  this  statement  is  striking ;  but  it  is  revealed 
to  us  by  evidence  too  overwhelming  to  be  rejected. 
We  must  be  careful  not  to  insist  on  any  causal  link  of 
connection  between  the  moral  and  intellectual  conditions 
of  Italian  society  at  this  epoch.  Still  we  are  forced  to 
admit  that  servitude  and  corruption  are  the  commanding 
features  of  the  age  in  which  Italy  for  the  third  time  in 
her  history  won  and  held  the  hegemony  of  the  world. 
In  politics,  in  religion,  in  ethics,  she  seemed  to  have  been 
left  devoid  of  guiding  principles;  and  tragic  interest 
is  added  to  the  climax  of  her  greatness  by  the  long 
series  of  disasters,  culminating  in  Spanish  enslavement 
and  ecclesiastical  tyranny,  which  proved  her  internal 
rottenness  and  put  an  end, to  her  unrivaled  intellectual 
triumphs. 

It  has  been  my  object  in  this  work  to  review  the 
part  played  by  the  Italians  at  the  beginning  of  modern 
history,  subjecting  each  department  of  their  activity  to 


SCOPE    OF   THE   PRESENT   WORK. 


495 


separate  examination.  In  the  first  of  the  five  volumes 
I  described  the  social  and  political  conditions  under 
which  the  renascence  of  the  race  took  place.  In  the 
second  I  treated  of  that  retrogressive  movement  toward 
antiquity,  which  constitutes  the  most  important  factor 
in  the  problem  offered  by  that  age.  The  third  volume 
was  devoted  to  the  Fine  Arts,  wherein  the  main  origi- 
nality of  modern  Italy  emerged.  It  was  through  art 
that  the  creative  instincts  of  the  people  found  their 
true  and  adequate  channel  of  expression.  Paramount 
over  all  other  manifestations  of  the  epoch,  fundamental^ 
beneath  all,  penetrative  to  the  core  of  all,  is  the' 
artistic  impulse.  The  slowly  self-consolidating  life  of/ 
a  great  kingdom,  concentrating  all  elements  of  national 
existence  by  the  centripetal  force  of  organic  unity,  was 
wanting.  Commonwealths  and  despotisms,  represent- 
ing a  more  imperfect  stage  of  political  growth,  achieved 
completion  and  decayed.  But  art  survived  this  dis-? 
integration  of  the  medieval  fabric;  and  in  art  the\ 
Italians  found  the  cohesion  denied  them  as  a  nation. 
While  speaking  thus  of  art,  it  is  necessary  to  give  a 
wide  extension  to  that  word.  It  must  be  understood 
to  include  literature.  Nor,  in  the  case  of  Italy,  does 
this  imply  an  undue  strain  upon  its  meaning.  The 
last  two  volumes  of  my  work  have  been  devoted  to  the^ 
stages  whereby  vernacular  literature  absorbed  into 
itself  the  elements  of  scholarship,  and  gave  form  to 
the  predominating  thoughts  and  feelings  of  the  people. 
This  process  of  form-giving  was  controlled,  more  or 
less  consciously  throughout,  by  the  artistic  instincts  of 
which  I  have  been  speaking.  Thus  we  are  justified  in 
regarding  the  literary  masterpieces  of  the  sixteenth 


496  RENAISSANCE    IN  ITALY. 

century  as  the  fullest  and  most  representative  expres- 
sion of  the  Italian  temperament  at  the  climax  of  its 
growth.  The  literature  of  the  golden  age  implies 
humanism,  implies  painting.  It  will  be  seen  that  the 
logic  of  the  whole  subject  necessitated  the  reservation 
of  this  department  for  final  treatment,  and  justified  a 
more  minute  investigation  than  had  been  accorded  to 
the  rest. 

It  is  not  only  possible  but  right  to  speak  of  Italy 
collectively  when  we  review  her  work  in  the  Re- 
naissance. Yet  it  should  not  be  forgotten  that  Italy 
at  this  time  was  a  federation,  presenting  upon  a  minia- 
ture scale  the  same  diversities  in  her  component  parts 
as  the  nations  of  Europe  do  now.  If  fo^his  reason 
alone,  we  may  profitably  survey  the  different  shares 
claimed  by  her  several  communities  in  the  general 
achievement. 

'  At  the  beginning  of  such  a  review,  we  cannot  fail 
to  be  struck  with  the  predominance  of  Florence.  The 
superiority  of  the  Tuscans  was  threefold.  In  the  first 
place,  they  determined  the  development  of  art  in  all 
its  branches.  In  the  second  place,  they  gave  a  lan- 
guage to  Italy,  which,  without  obliterating  the  local 
dialects,  superseded  them  in  literature  when  the  right 
/  moment  for  intellectual  community  arrived.  That 
moment,  in  the  third  place,  was  rendered  possible  by 
the  humanistic  movement,  which  began  at  Florence. 
The  humanists  prepared  the  needful  literary  medium 
by  introducing  classical  studies  into  every  town  of  the 
peninsula.  Without  this  discipline,  Tuscan  could  not 
so  speedily  have  produced  Italian,  or  have  been  so 
readily  accepted  by  North  and  South.  It  may,  in- 


TUSCANY  AND    LOMBARD Y.  497 

deed,  be  affirmed  without  exaggeration  that,  prior  to 
the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century,  what  we  call  the 
Italian  genius  was,  in  truth,  the  genius  of  Florence. 
What  the  Lombards  and  Venetians  produced  in 
fine  art  and  literature  was  of  a  later  birth.1  Yet  the 
novelists  of  Lombardy,  the  Latin  lyrists  of  Garda, 
the  school  of  romantic  and  dramatic  poets  at  Ferrara, 
the  group  of  sculptors  and  painters  assembled  in  Milan 
by  the  Sforza  dynasty,  the  maccaronic  Muse  of  Mantua, 
the  unrivaled  magnificence  of  painting  at  Venice,  the 
transient  splendor  of  the  Parmese  masters,  the  wit  of 
Modena,  the  learning  of  the  princes  of  Mirandola  and 
Carpi,  must  be  catalogued  among  the  most  brilliant 
and  characteristic  manifestations  of  Italian  genius.  In 
pure  literature  Venice  contributed  but  little,  though 
she  sent  forth  a  dictator,  Pietro  Bembo,  to  rule  the 
republic  of  letters  at  the  moment  when  the  scepter 
was  about  to  pass  from  Florence.  Her  place,  as  the 
home  of  Aldo's  Greek  press,  and  as  the  refuge  for 
adventurers  like  Aretino  and  Folengo,  when  the  rest 
of  Italy  was  yielding  to  reactionary  despotism,  has  to 
be  commemorated.  Of  the  northern  universities, 
Padua  preserved  the  tradition  of  physical  studies,  and 
Bologna  that  of  legal  erudition,  onward  from  the  middle 
ages.  Both  became  headquarters  of  materialistic 
philosophy  in  the  sixteenth  century.  The  school  of 
Vicenza  had  flourished  in  humane  letters  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  epoch.  But  it  declined  early;  while 
that  of  Ferrara,  on  the  contrary,  succeeded  to  the 
honors  of  Florence  and  Pisa.  Genoa  was  almost 

'  I  need  hardly  guard  this  paragraph  by  saying  that  I  speak  within 
the  limits  of  the  Renaissance. 


498  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

excluded  from  the  current  of  Italian  culture.  Her 
sumptuous  palaces  and  churches,  her  sensual  unsym- 
pathetic painting,  belong  to  the  last  days  of  Italian 
energy.  Her  few  great  scholars  owed  their  fame  to 
correspondence  and  connection  with  the  students  of 
more  favored  districts. 

From  Romagna,  the  Marches  of  Ancona,  and  the 
Umbrian  cities,  more  captains  of  adventure  than  men 
of  letters  or  artists  swelled  the  muster-roll  of  Italian 
worthies.  We  must  not,  however,  forget  the  unique 
place  which  Urbino,  with  its  refined  society,  pure 
Court,  and  concourse  of  accomplished  men  and  women, 
occupies  in  the  history  of  Italian  civilization.  The 
position  of  Perugia,  again,  is  not  a  little  singular. 
Situated  upon  the  borders  of  Tuscany  and  Umbria, 
sharing  something  of  the  spirit  of  both  districts,  over- 
shadowed by  Papal  Rome,  yet  harboring  such  broods 
of  bravi  as  the  Baglioni,  conferring  a  tyranny  on 
Braccio  and  the  honor  of  her  name  on  Pietro  Van- 
nucci,  this  city  offers  a  succession  of  picturesque  and 
perplexing  contradictions.  Perugia  was  the  center  of 
the  most  religious  school  of  painting  which  flourished 
in  the  fifteenth  century,  and  also  the  cradle  of  the  re- 
ligious drama.  For  the  student  of  Italian  psychology, 
very  much  of  serious  moment  is  contained  in  this 
statement. 

Rome  continued  to  be  rather  cosmopolitan  than 
Italian.  The  power,  wealth,  and  prestige  of  the  Popes 
made  their  court  a  center;  and  men  who  settled  in  the 
Eternal  City,  caught  something  of  its  greatness.  There 
is,  however,  no  reason  to  recapitulate  the  benefits  con- 
ferred by  ecclesiastical  patronage  at  various  times  on 


ROMAN  STATES   AND    LOWER   ITALY.  499 

fine  arts,  scholarship,  and  literature.  Rather  must  it 
be  borne  in  mind  that  the  Romans  who  advanced 
Italian  culture,  were  singularly  few.  The  work  of 
Rome  was  done  almost  exclusively  by  aliens,  drawn 
for  the  most  part  from  Tuscany  and  Lombardy. 

After  Frederick  II.'s  brilliant  reign,  the  Sicilians 
shared  but  little  in  the  intellectual  activity  of  the 
nation.  That  this  was  not  due  to  want  of  capacity  in 
the  people,  seems  proved  by  their  aptitude  for  poetry 
first  shown  at  Frederick's  Court,  and  next  by  the  un- 
rivaled richness  of  their  dialectical  literature,  both 
popular  and  cultivated.  Whether  the  semi-feudalism 
which  oppressed  the  Southern  provinces,  checked  the 
free  expansion  of  mental  faculty,  admits  of  question. 
But  it  is  certainly  remarkable  that,  during  the  Renais- 
sance, the  wide  districts  of  the  Regno  produced  so 
little.  Antonio  Beccadelli  was,  indeed,  a  native  of 
Palermo ;  but  Pontano  owned  Cerreto  for  his  birth- 
place. Valla  claimed  to  be  a  Roman,  and  Sannazzaro 
traced  his  ancestry  through  Piacenza  into  Spain. 
These  are  the  four  greatest  names  of  the  period  when 
Naples  formed  a  literary  center  under  the  Aragonese 
dynasty.  We  have  already  seen  that  Naples,  though 
not  prolific  of  native  genius,  gave  specific  tone  of 
warmth  and  liberty  to  literature.  This  may  be  ascribed 
partly  to  the  free  manners,  bordering  on  license,  of  the 
South,  and  partly  to  the  permanent  jealousy  subsisting 
between  the  Kingdom  and  the  Papacy.  The  Novella 
produced  humorous  pictures  of  society  at  Florence, 
facetiae  in  Rome,  but  bitter  satires  on  the  clergy  at 
Naples.  The  scandals  of  the  Church  provoked  the 
frigid  animosity  of  Florentines  like  Machiavelli  and 


500  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Guicciardini ;  in  Naples  they  led  to  Valla's  ponderous 
critique  and  Sannazzaro's  envenomed  epigrams.  The 
sensuousness  of  Poliziano  assumed  voluptuous  fervor 
in  Pontano's  lyrics.  Lastly,  the  Platonic  mysticism  of 
Florence,  and  the  Peripatetic  materialism  of  Bologna 
ended  in  the  new  philosophy  of  the  Calabrian  school. 
This  crowning  contribution  of  the  south  to  Italy,  this 
special  glory  of  the  sixteenth  century,  came  less  from 
Naples  than  from  minor  cities  of  Calabria.  Telesio  of 
Cosenza,  Bruno  of  Nola,  Campanella  of  Stilo,  showed 
that  something  of  the  old  Greek  speculative  genius — 
the  spirit  of  Parmenides  and  Pythagoras — still  lingered 
round  the  shores  of  Magna  Grsecia.  Just  as  the  Hel- 
lenic colonists  at  Elea  and  Tarentum  anticipated  the 
dawn  of  Attic  philosophy,  so  did  those  robust  and  in- 
novating thinkers  shoot  the  arrows  of  their  speculation 
forward  at  the  mark  of  modern  science. 

It  is  tempting  to  pass  from  this  review  of  the  Italian 
provinces  to  meditations  on  a  further  problem.  How 
far  may  the  qualities  of  each  district  have  endured  from 
remote  antiquity?  To  what  extent  may  they  have 
determined  the  specific  character  of  Italian  production 
in  the  modern  age  ?  Did  the  population  of  Calabria, 
we  ponder,  really  inherit  philosophical  capacity  from 
their  Greek  ancestors  ?  Dare  we  connect  the  Tuscan 
aptitude  for  art  with  that  mysterious  race  who  built 
their  cities  on  Etrurian  hill-tops?  Can  the  primitive 
ethnology  of  the  Ligurian^and  lapygian  stocks  be  used 
to  explain  the  silence  of  the  Genoese  Riviera  and  the 
Apulian  champaign  ?  Is  a  Teutonic  strain  discernible 
in  the  gross  humor  of  the  Mantuan  Muse,  or  in  the 
ballads  of  Montferrat?  It  would  be  easy  to  multiply 


ETHNOLOGICAL   PROBLEMS. 


501 


these  questions.  But  the  whole  subject  of  national 
development  is  still  too  obscure  to  admit  of  satisfactory 
answers.1  All  we  can  affirm  without  liability  to  error, 
amounts  to  this;  that  Rome  never  completely  fused 
the  divers  races  of  the  Italian  peninsula,  nor  obliterated 
their  characteristic  differences.  After  the  dissolution 
of  her  empire,  we  find  the  Italian  provinces  presenting 
local  types  in  language,  manners,  sentiments,  and  intel- 
lectual proclivities.  It  is  not  unreasonable,  therefore, 
to  conjecture  that  certain  of  these  differences  sprang 
from  the  persistence  of  ethnological  qualities,  and 
others  from  the  infusion  of  fresh  blood  from  without. 

The  decisive  fact  of  Italian  history  in  all  its* 
branches  at  this  epoch  is  the  resurgence  of  the  Latin,! 
or  shall  we  rather  say,  of  the  Italic  spirit  ?  The 
national  consciousness  survived,  though  dimly,  through 
the  middle  ages;  nor  had  the  people  suffered  ship- 
wreck in  the  break-up  of  the  Roman  power.  This 
was  due  in  no  small  measure  to  the  fact  that  the 
Empire  was  the  creation  of  this  people,  and  that  con- 
sequently they  were  in  a  sense  superior  to  its  fall. 
Roman  civilization,  Roman  organization,  Roman  in-i 
stitutions,  Roman  law,  were  the  products  of  the  Italian 

i  Those  who  are  curious  in  such  matters,  may  be  referred  to  the  fol- 
lowing works  by  Giustiniano  Nicolucci:  La  Stirpe  Ligure  in  Italia, 
Napoli,  1864;  Sulla  Stirpe  lapigica,  Napoli,  1866;  Sull'  Antropologia 
della  Grecia,  Napoli,  1867;  Antropologia  dell'  Etruria,  Napoli,  1869; 
Antropologia  dell'  Lazio,  Napoli,  1873.    Also  to  Luigi  Calori's  Del  Tipo 
Brachicefalo  negli  Italiani  odierni,  Bologna,  1868,  and  a  learned  article 
upon  this  work  by  J.  Barnard  Davis  in  the  Journal  of  the  Anthropo- 
logical Institute,  Jan.  July,  1871.    Nicolucci's  and  Calori's  researches  1 
to  opposite  results  regarding  the  distribution  of  brachycephalic  skulls  in 
Italy.     Nicolucci  adopts  in  its  entirety  the  theory  of  an  Aryan  immigrj 
tion  from  the  North;  Barnard  Davis  rejects  it.    It  seems  to  me  impos 
in  our  present  state  of  knowledge  to  draw  conclusions  from  the  extren 
varied  and  interesting  observations  recorded  in  the  treatises  cited  above. 


502  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

genius;  and  when  the  Roman  State  declined,  the 
home  province  suffered  a  less  thorough-going  trans- 
formation than,  to  take  an  instance,  either  Gaul  or 
Spain.  It  would  be  paradoxical  to  maintain  that  the 
imperial  despotism  exercised  a  more  controlling  author- 
ity over  the  outlying  provinces  than  over  Italy  proper. 
Yet  something  of  this  kind  might  be  advanced,  when 
we  reflect  upon  the  self-indulgent  majesty  of  Rome 
herself;  upon  the  sovereign  privileges  accorded  to  the 
chief  Italian  cities;  upon  the  prosperity  and  vastness 
of  Mediolanum,  Aquileia  and  Ravenna.  Local  ties 
and  local  institutions  kept  a  lasting  hold  upon  the 
ancient  no  less  than  the  medieval  Italian;  and  long 
after  Rome  became  the  colluvies  omnium  gentium 
so  bitterly  described  by  Juvenal,  the  country  towns, 
especially  in  the  valley  of  the  Po,  retained  a  vigorous 
personality.  In  this  respect  the  relation  in  which  men 
of  state  and  letters,  like  the  Plinies,  stood  on  one  side 
to  the  capital  and  on  the  other  to  their  birthplace,  is 
both  interesting  and  instructive.  The  citizens  of  the 
provincial  municipia  gloried  in  the  might  of  Rome. 
Rome  was  for  them  the  fulcrum  of  a  lever  which  set 
the  habitable  globe  in  movement  at  their  touch.  Still 
the  Empire  existed  for  the  world,  while  each  Italian 
city  claimed  the  duty  and  affection  of  its  own  inhabi- 
tants. When  Rome  failed,  the  cosmopolitan  authority 
of  the  Empire  was  extended  to  the  Church,  or,  rather, 
fell  into  abeyance  between  the  Church  and  the  resus- 
citated Empire.  Just  as  *  the  'municipia  flourished 
\beneath  the  shadow  of  old  Rome,  so  now  the  Com- 
Imunes  grew  beneath  the  Church  and  the  new  Empire. 
These  two  creations  of  the  earlier  middle  ages,  though 


SURVIVAL    OF  ROMAN  MUNICIPIA.  503 

formulated  and  legalized  in  Italy,  weighed  less  heavily 
there  than  on  some  other  parts  of  Europe.  The 
Italians  resisted  imperial  authority,  and  preserved 
their  own  local  independence.  The  Northern  Emper- 
ors were  never  really  strong  below  the  Alps  except  on 
sufferance  and  by  the  aid  of  faction.  In  like  manner 
the  Italian  burghers  tolerated  ecclesiastical  despotism 
only  in  so  far  as  they  found  it  convenient  to  do  so.  In 
spite  of  Gothic,  Lombard,  Frankish  and  German  at- 
tempts at  solidification,  the  cities  succeeded  in  assert- 
ing their  autonomy.  The  Italic  stock  absorbed  the 
several  foreign  elements  that  mingled  with  it.  Ver- 
nacular Latin,  surviving  the  decay  of  literature,  re- 
pelling the  influence  of  alien  dialects,  prevailed  and 
was  the  language  of  the  people. 

Notwithstanding  this  persistence  of  the  antique 
type,  the  Italian  nation,  between  the  ages  of  Constan- 
tine  and  Frederick  Barbarossa,  was  intellectually  and 
actually  remade.  It  was  not  a  new  nation  like  the 
English,  French  or  Germans;  for  its  life  had  con- 
tinued without  cessation  on  the  same  soil  from  a  period 
antecedent  to  the  birth  of  Rome.  It  had  no  fund 
of  myth  and  legend,  embodying  its  mempries  in  popular 
epical  poetry.  Instead  of  Siegfried,  Arthur  or  Roland,*, 
it  looked  back  to  the  Virgilian  Aeneas.1  Still  it  un- 
derwent, together  with  the  rest  of  Europe,  the  trans- 
formation from  Paganism  to  Christianity.  It  felt 
the  influences  of  feudalism,  while  repelling  them  with 
obstinate  and  finally  victorious  jealousy.  It  owed  some- 

i  That  the  JEneid  was  still  the  Italian  Epos  is  proved  by  the  many 
local  legends  which  connected  the  foundation  of  cities  with  the  Trojan 

wars. 


50 »  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

thing  to  chivalry,  though  the  instincts  of  the  race 
were  rather  practical  and  positive  than  romantic.  It 
suffered  the  eclipse  of  antique  culture,  and  borrowed 
from  its  conquerors  a  tincture  of  their  style  in  art  and 
literature.  When  these  new  Italians  found  a  voice, 
they  spoke  in  tones  which  lacked  the  ring  of  Roman 
eloquence.  The  massy  fabric  of  the  Roman  syntax 
was  dismembered.  And  yet  their  speech  had  more 
affinity  to  Roman  style  than  that  of  any  Northern 
people.  The  greatest  jurists,  ecclesiastics  and  states- 
men of  the  middle  ages,  the  interpreters  of  Roman 
law,  the  fabricators  of  solid  theological  edifices,  the 
founders  of  the  Catholic  Church,  the  champions  of  the 
Imperial  idea,  were  Italians,  proving  by  their  grasp  of 
practical  affairs  and  by  the  positive  turn  they  gave  to 
speculative  inquiries,  a  participation  in  the  ancient 
Latin  Spirit.1  Even  when  it  is  least  classical,  the 
medieval  work  of  the  Italian  genius  betrays  this 
ancestry — in  Lombard  no  less  than  in  Tuscan  archi- 
tecture, in  the  monumental  structure  of  the  Divine 
Comedy,  in  the  comprehensive  digest  of  the  Summa, 
in  the  rejection  of  sentimentalism  from  the  tardition  of 
Provencal  poetry,  in  Petrarch's  conception  of  scholar- 
ship, in  the  sensuous  realism  of  Boccaccio. 

The  Revival  of  Learning  was  the  acquisition  of 
{complete  self-consciousness  by  this  new  race,  which 
/still  retained  so  much  of  its  old  temperament.  Ill  at 
ease  among  the  customs  and  ideals  of  Teutonic  tribes; 
stubbornly  refusing  to  merge  their  local  independence 

1  It  is  enough  to  mention  a  few  names — Gregory  the  Great,  Lanfranc, 
S.  Anselm,  Peter  the  Lombard,  Hildebrand,  S.  Thomas  Aquinas,  Accur- 
sius,  Bartolus — to  prove  how  strong  in  construction,  as  opposed  to  crit- 
icism, were  the  Italian  thinkers  of  the  middle  ages. 


IMPORTANCE    OF  REVIVAL    OF  LEARNING.  505 

in  a  kingdom;  struggling  against  feudalism;  accepting 
Chivalry  and  Gothic  architecture  as  exotics;  without 
national  legends;  without  crusading  enthusiasms;  the 
Italians  were  scarcely  themselves  until  they  regained 
the  right  use  of  their  energies  by  contact  with  the 
classics.  This  makes  the  Revival  of  Learning  a 
[national,  a  patriotic,  a  dramatic  movement.  This 
gives  life  and  passion  to  a  process  which  in  any  other 
country,  upon  any  other  soil,  might  have  possessed  but 
little  more  than  antiquarian  interest.  This,  and  this 
alone,  explains  the  extraordinary  fervor  with  which 
the  Italians  threw  themselves  into  the  search,  abandon- 
ing the  new-gained  laurels  of  their  modern  tongue, 
absorbing  the  intellectual  faculties  of  at  least  three 
generations  in  the  labor  of  erudition,  and  emerging 
from  the  libraries  of  the  humanists  with  a  fresh  sense 
of  national  unity.  At  the  same  moment,  and  by  the 
same  series  of  discoveries,  they  found  themselves  and 
found  for  Europe  the  civilization  of  the  modern  world. 

It  is  only  by  remembering  that  the  Italic  races, 
clogged  by  the  ruins  of  the  Roman  Empire,  and 
tardily  receptive  of  Teutonic  influences,  resumed  their 
natural  activity  and  recognized  their  vocation  in  the 
Revival  of  Learning,  that  we  can  comprehend  the 
radical  revolution  effected  in  all  departments  of  thought 
by  this  event.  In  Architecture,  the  Gothic  style, 
which  had  been  adopted  as  it  were  with  repugnance 
and  imperfectly  assimilated,  was  at  once  abandoned. 
Brunelleschi,  Albert!,  Bramante,  San  Gallo,  Michel- 
angelo, Palladio,  strove,  one  and  all,  to  effect  a  right 
adjustment  of  the  antique  style  to  modern  requirements. 
Foreiq-n  elsewhere,  the  so-called  Palladian  manner  is 


506  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

at  home  and  national  in  Italy.  Sculpture,  even  earlier 
than  architecture,  took  and  followed  the  same  hint. 
What  chiefly  distinguishes  the  work  of  the  Pisan 
school  from  contemporary  work  of  French  or  German 
craftsmen  is,  that  here  the  manner  of  Grseco- Roman 
art  has  been  felt  and  partly  comprehended.  Painting, 
though  more  closely  connected  with  Christianity,  more 
perfectly  related  to  conditions  of  contemporary  life, 
owed  strength  and  vigor  in  great  measure  to  the 
same  conditions.  During  the  fifteenth  century  classical 
influences  continued  increasingly  to  modify  the  practice 
of  the  strongest  masters.  In  literature,  the  effect  of 
the  Revival  was  so  decisive  as  to  demand  a  somewhat 
closer  investigation. 

The  awakened  consciousness  of  the  Italic  people 
showed  itself  first  in  the  creation  of  a  learned  litera- 
ture, imitating  as  closely  as  possible  in  a  dead  language 
the  models  recovered  from  ancient  Rome.  It  was  not 
enough  to  appropriate  the  matter  of  the  Latin  authors. 
Their  form  had  to  be  assimilated  and  reproduced. 
These  pioneers  in  scholarship  believed  that  the  vulgar 
tongue,  with  its  divergent  dialects,  had  ever  been  and 
still  remained  incapable  of  higher  culture.  The  refined 
diction  of  Cicero  and  Virgil  was  for  them  a  separate 
and  superior  speech,  consecrated  by  infallible  prece- 
dent, and  no  less  serviceable  for  modern  than  it  for- 
merly had  been  for  antique  usage.  Recovering  the 
style  of  the  Augustan  age,  they  thought  they  should 
possess  an  instrument  of* utterance  adapted  to  their 
present  needs,  and  correlated  to  the  living  language  of 
the  people  as  it  had  been  in  the  age  of  Roman  great- 
ness. They  attacked  the  easier  branches  of  composi- 


ITALIC   CONSCIOUSNESS,  507 

tion  first.  Epistolography  and  rhetoric  assumed  the 
Roman  habit.  Then  the  meters  of  Horace,  Ovid, 
and  Virgil  were  analyzed  and  copied.  In  the  inevi- 
table compromise  between  classical  modes  of  expres- 
sion and  modern  necessities  of  thought,  concessions 
were  always  made  to  the  advantage  of  the  former. 
The  Persons  of  the  Trinity,  the  saints  and  Martyrs  of 
the  Church,  pranked  themselves  in  phrases  borrowed 
from  an  obsolete  mythology.  Christ  figured  as  a  hero. 
The  councils  of  each  petty  Commune  arrogated  the 
style  of  Senate  and  People.  Condottieri  masqueraded 
as  Scipio,  Hannibal,  and  Fabius  Cunctator.  Cecco 
and  Tonino  assumed  the  graceful  garb  of  Lycidas  and 
Thyrsis.  So  fervid  was  the  sense  of  national  resur- 
gence that  these  literary  conventions  imposed  on  men 
who  ruled -the  politics  of  Italy — on  statesmen  with 
subtle  insight  into  practical  affairs;  on  generals  with 
egotistic  schemes  to  be  developed  from  the  play  and 
counter-play  of  living  interests.  When  Poliziano  ruled 
the  republic  of  letters,  this  acclimatization  of  the  Latin 
classics  was  complete.  Innumerable  poems,  repro- 
ducing the  epic,  elegiac  and  lyric  measures  of  the 
Romans,  poured  from  the  press.  Moralists  draped 
themselves  in  the  Hortensian  toga.  Orators  fulmi- 
nated copious  floods  of  Ciceronian  rhetoric.  Critics 
aped  Quintilian.  Historians  stuffed  their  chapters 
with  speeches  and  descriptions  modeled  upon  Livy. 
Pastoral  and  didactic  poets  made  centos  from  Virgil. 
The  drama  flourished  under  the  auspices  of  Plautus, 
Terence,  and  Seneca.  Preachers  were  more  scrupu- 
lous to  turn  their  sentences  in  florid  style  than  to  clinch 
a  theological  argument.  Upon  the  lips  of  Popes  the 


508  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

God  of  Sinai  or  Calvary  was  Jupiter  Optimus  Maxi- 
mus.  Even  envoys  and  embassadors  won  causes  for 
their  States  by  paragraphs,  citations,  perorations  in 
the  manner  of  the  ancients. 

This  humanistic  ardor  at  first  effected  a  division 
between  the  lettered  and  unlettered  classes.  The 
beople  clung  to  their  dialects.  Educated  folk  despised 
all  forms  of  speech  but  Latin.  It  seemed  as  though 
the  national  literature  might  henceforth  follow  two 
separate  and  divergent  courses.  But  with  the  cessa- 
tion of  the  first  enthusiasm  for  antique  culture,  the 
claims  of  vernacular  Italian  came  to  be  recognized. 
No  other  modern  nation  had  produced  masterpieces 
equal  to  Dante's,  Petrarch's  and  Boccaccio's.  The 
self-esteem  of  the  Italians  could  not  suffer  the  exclu- 
sion of  the  Divine  Comedy,  the  Canzoniere  and  the 
Decameron  from  the  rank  of  classics.  Men  of  deli- 
cate perception,  like  Albert!  and  Lorenzo  de'  Medici, 
felt  that  the  honors  of  posterity  would  fall  to  the 
share  of  those  who  cultivated  and  improved  their 
mother  tongue.  Thus  the  earlier  position  of  the 
humanists  was  recognized  as  false.  Could  not  their 
recent  acquisitions  be  carried  over  to  the  account  and 
profit  of  the  vernacular  ?  A  common  Italian  language, 
based  upon  the  Tuscan,  but  modified  for  general 
usage,  was  now  practiced  in  accordance  with  the  rules 
and  objects  of  the  scholars.  Upon  the  briar  of  the 
popular  literature  were  grafted  the  highly-cultivated 
roses  of  the  classic  gardens.  It  was  thus  that  the 
masterpieces  of  cinque  cento  literature  came  into  being 
-the  Orlando  and  the  comedies  of  Ariosto,  Machia- 
velli's  histories  and  Sannazzaro's  Arcadia — Tasso's 


LATIN  CULTURE.  509 

Gerusalemme,  and  Guarini's  Pastor  Fido,  together  with 
the  multitudinous  and  multifarious  work  of  lesser  crafts- 
men in  prose  and  verse. 

Steeped  in  classical  allusion  and  reminiscence,  thei 
form  of  this  new  literature  was  modern ;  but  its  spirit 
was  in  a  true  sense  Latin.  The  Italic  people  hadi 
found  their  proper  mode  of  self-expression,  and  pro- 
claimed their  hereditary  affinities  to  the  makers  of 
Roman  art.  In  the  history  of  the  Italian  Renaissance 
Greek  studies  form  but  an  episode.  The  Platonic 
school  of  Florence,  the  Venetian  labors  of  Aldus,  ex- 
erqjsed  a  partial  and  imperfect  influence  over  Italian 
culture.  They  proved  more  important  for  Europe  at 
large  than  for  the  peninsula,  more  valuable  in  their 
remote  than  their  immediate  consequences.  With  the! 
whole  of  classic  literature  to  choose  from,  this  instinc-\ 
tive  preference  of  Latin  illustrates  the  point  I  am  en- 
gaged in  demonstrating — namely,  that  in  Italy  the 
Revival  of  Learning  was  a  resurgence  of  the  Italic 
genius  modified  and  formed  by  Roman  influence. 
True  to  their  ancestry,  the  Italians  assimilated  Roman 
types,  and  left  the  Greek  aside. 

If  we  pause  to  consider  the  qualities  of  the  Roman 
spirit  in  art  and  literature,  we  shall  see  in  how  real  a 
sense  the  modern  people  reproduced  them  and  remained 
within  their  limits.  Compared  with  the  Hellenic  and 
Teutonic  races,  the  Romans  were  not  myth-making, 
nor  in  the  sincerest  sense  poetical.  \  In  like  manner  the 
Italians  are  deficient  on  the  side  of  legend  and  romance. 
This  defect  has  been  insisted  on  in  the  preceding 
volumes,  where  the  practical  and  positive  quality  of 
Italian  poetry,  its  leaning  to  realism  and  abstinence 


510  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

from  visionary  flights  of  the  imagination,  have  more 
than  once  been  pointed  out.  Roman  literature  was 
composite  and  cultured,  rather  than  simple  or  sponta- 
neous. The  Roman  epic  was  literary;  based  on 
antecedent  models,  and  confined  within  the  sphere  of 
polished  imitation.  The  Roman  Comedy  and  Tragedy 
were  copies  of  the  Greek.  In  these  highest  depart- 
ments of  art  the  Roman  poets  gave  new  form  to 
foreign  matter,  and  infused  their  national  spirit  into 
works  that  might  be  almost  ranked  with  free  transla- 
tions. The  same  is  true  of  their  lyrics.  Even  the 
meters  in  all  these  species  are  appropriated.  The 
Italians  in  like  manner  invented  but  little.  They 
borrowed  from  every  source — from  the  Arthurian  and 
Carolingian  romances,  from  Provencal  love-poetry, 
and  lastly  in  copious  quantities  from  Roman  literature. 
But  they  stamped  their  own  genius  on  the  materials 
adopted,  retouched  the  form,  and  modified  the  senti- 
Iment,  converting  all  they  took  to  their  own  genuine 
(uses.  In  this  respect  the  Italians,  though  apparently 
feo  uncreative,  may  be  called  more  original  than  the 
Romans.  Their  metrical  systems,  to  begin  with — the 
sonnet,  the  octave  stanza,  and  terza  rima — are  their  own. 
Their  touch  upon  Teutonic  legend  is  more  charac- 
teristic than  the  Roman  touch  on  Greek  mythology. 
Dante  and  Petrarch  deal  more  freely  with  Provencal 
poetry  than  Horace  or  Catullus  with  the  lyrics  of  their 
predecessors.  In  the  matter  of  dramatic  composition, 
the  Italians  stand  in  much  the  same  relation  to  the 
Romans  as  the  Romans  to  the  Greeks ;  and  this  may 
be  repeated  with  reference  to  elegiac  and  pastoral 
poetry,  and  some  minor  species.  The  Italic  race,  in 


SURVIVAL    OF  LATIN  SPIRIT.  511 

its  later  as  in  its  earlier  development,  seems  here, 
also,  satisfied  with  form-giving  and  delicacy  of  execu- 
tion. 

If  we  turn  to  the  indigenous  and  characteristic  quali- 
ties of  Roman  literary  genius,  we  find  these  reappear- 
ing with  the  force  of  spontaneity  among  the  Italians. 
First  of  all  may  be  reckoned  the  strong  love  of  country- 
life  which  lends  undying  freshness  to  Catullus,  Horace, 
and  the  poetical  episodes  of  Lucretius.  This  is  a  no 
less  marked  feature  of  Italian  literature.  The  very 
best  poetry  of  the  humanists  is  that  which  deals  with 
villa-life  among  the  Tuscan  hills,  beside  the  bay  of 
Naples,  or  on  the  shores  of  Garda.  The  purest 
passages  in  the  Novelle,  the  least  intolerable  descrip- 
tions in  the  treatises  of  the  essayists,  are  those  which 
celebrate  the  joys  of  field  and  wood  and  garden.  The 
most  original  products  of  the  Italian  stage  are  the 
Aminta  and  the  Pastor  Fido,  penetrated  through  and 
through  with  a  real  love  of  the  country — not  with  any 
feeling  for  Nature  in  her  sublimer  and  wilder  aspects, 
but  with  the  old  Saturnian  pathos  and  fresh  clinging 
loveliness  of  nature  made  the  friend  of  man  and  hu- 
manized by  labor.  The  tears  shed  by  Alberti  over 
the  rich  fields  of  autumn,  as  he  gazed  upon  them  from 
some  Tuscan  summit,  seem  to  have  fallen  like  a  dew 
of  real  emotion  upon  the  driest  places  of  a  pastoral 
literature  which  is  too  often  conventional. 

Resuming  the  main  thread  of  the  argument,  it 
may  be  said  that  the  Italians  also  shared  the  Roman 
partiality  for  didactic  poetry.  The  Latin  poems  of 
Poliziano,  Vida,  and  Fracastoro,  together  with  the 
Italian  work  of  Alamanni,  Rucellai,  and  other  authors, 


512  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

sufficiently  prove  this.  Nor  does  it  seem  to  me  that 
we  need  suppose  these  essays  in  a  style  of  inevitable 
weariness  to  have  been  merely  formal  imitations  of  the 
ancients.  The  delight  with  which  they  were  first 
received  and  even  now  sometimes  are  read  in  Italy,  and 
the  high  reputation  they  have  won  for  their  authors, 
show  that  there  is  something  in  the  Italian  genius  sym- 
pathetic to  their  spirit.  One  department  of  their  Roman 
heritage  was  left  uncultivated  by  the  Italians.  They 
produced  no  really  great  satire;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  that  indigenous  satiric  humor,  inclining  to  cari- 
cature and  obscenity,  which  found  vent  in  the  fescen- 
nine  songs  of  Roman  festivals  and  triumphs,  endured 
without  material  change  through  all  modifications  of 
the  national  life.  The  earliest  monuments  of  the  ver- 
nacular literature  afford  instances  of  its  popularity 
throughout  the  middle  ages.  It  gave  a  special  quality 
to  the  Florentine  Carnival;  it  assumed  high  literary 
form  in  Lorenzo's  Canti  and  Berni's  burlesque  Capitoli; 
it  flourished  on  the  quays  of  Naples,  and  sheltered  at 
Rome  under  the  protection  of  Pasquino. 

Leaving  pure  literature  aside,  we  may  trace  the 
Latin  ancestry  of  the  Italians  in  their  strong  forensic 
bias.  Just  as  the  Forum  was  the  center  of  Roman,  so 
was  the  Piazza  the  center  of  Italian,  life.  The  declam- 
atory emphasis  that  spoils  much  Latin  prose  and  verse 
for  Northern  ears,  sounds  throughout  Italian  literature. 
Their  writers  too  easily  assume  a  rhetorical  tone,  and 
substitute  sonorousness  of  Verbiage  for  solid  matter  or 
sound  feeling.  The  recitations  of  the  Romans  find  an 
analogue  in  the  Italian  Academies.  The  colloquial 
taint  of  Roman  philosophical  discussion  is  repeated  in 


ROME   AND    THE   ITALIC  RACES.  513 

the  moral  diatribes  of  the  humanists.  But  with  equal 
justice  we  might  urge  that  the  practical  and  legal 
qualities  of  the  Latin  race,  and  its  powerful  organizing 
faculty,  survived,  and  found  expression  in  the  modern 
nation.  The  Italians,  as  we  have  already  said,  were  thei 
greatest  Churchmen,  Statesmen,  and  Jurists  of  medieval] 
Europe.  They  created  the  Papacy.  They  formulated 
the  conception  of  the  Empire.  They  preserved,  ex- 
plained, and  taught  Roman  law.  But  this  element  was 
already  worked  out  and  exhausted  at  the  close  of  the 
medieval  period.  We  find  it  in  abeyance  during  the 
Renaissance.  The  political  vigor,  the  martial  energy, 
the  cohesive  force,  the  indomitable  will  of  the  Romans, 
have  clearly  deserted  their  Italian  inheritors.  There 
is  a  massive  architecture,  as  of  masonry,  in  Roman 
writing,  which  Italian  almost  always  misses. 

If  it  were  permissible  to  venture  here  upon  a  some- 
what bold  hypothesis,  we  might  ask  whether  the  Italic 
races  now  displayed  themselves  as  they  might  have 
been  without  the  centralizing  and  controlling  genius  of 
Rome?  In  the  history  of  the  Italian  peninsula,  can 
we  regard  the  ascendancy  of  Rome  as  a  gigantic  epi- 
sode? Rome  bound  the  various  tribes  together  in  a 
common  system,  formed  one  language,  and  used  Italy 
as  the  throne  of  world-wide  empire.  But  Rome's  em- 
pire passed,  and  the  tribes  remained — indelibly  stamped, 
it  is  true,  with  her  mark,  and  subsequently  modified 
by  a  succession  of  intrusive  incidents — yet  yielding  to 
the  world  in  a  new  form  a  second  crop  of  flowers  and 
fruitage  similar  to  that  which  they  had  borne  for  Rome. 
It  will  not  do  to  press  these  speculations.  They  sug- 
gest themselves  when  we  observe  that,  what  the  Italians 


514  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

lacked  in  the  Renaissance  was  precisely  what  Rome, 
or  the  Latin  confederacy,  gave  to  Italy  in  the  ancient 
days  of  her  supremacy.  It  is  as  though  the  great 
Saturnian  mother,  exhausted  by  the  production  of 
Rome  and  all  that  Rome  implied  through  Empire  and 
through  Papacy  for  Europe,  had  little  force  left  but 
for  amenities  and  subtleties  in  modern  literature.  To 
the  masonry  of  Rome  succeeds  the  filigree  work  of 
the  cinque  cento. 

There  is  no  mistaking  the  positive,  materialistic, 
quality  possessed  by  the  Italians  in  common  with  their 
Latin  ancestors.  This,  after  all  is  said,  constitutes 
the  true  note  of  their  art  and  literature.  Realism,  pre- 
ferring the  tangible  and  concrete  to  the  visionary  and 
abstract,  the  defined  to  the  indefinite,  the  sensuous  to 
the  ideal,  determines  the  character  of  their  genius  in 
all  its  manifestations.  We  find  it  even  in  the  Divine 
Comedy.  Dante's  pictures  appeal  to  our  eyes;  his 
songs  of  angels  and  cries  of  damned  souls  reach  our 
ears ;  he  makes  us  shrink  with  physical  loathing  from 
the  abominations  of  Malebolge,  and  feel  upon  our  fore- 
heads the  cool  morning  wind  of  Purgatory.  His 
imaginary  world  can  be  mapped  out;  his  journey 
through  it  has  been  traced  and  measured,  inch  by  inch, 
and  hour  by  hour.  The  same  realism  determined  the 
speculation  of  the  Italians,  deflecting  it  from  meta- 
physics to  problems  of  practical  life.  Again  it  leavened 
their  religion.  We  find  it  in  S.  Catherine's  visions,  in 
the  stigmata  of  S.  Francis,  in  the  miracle  of  Bolsena. 
Under  its  influence  the  dogmas  of  the  Church  assumed 
a  kind  of  palpability.  It  was  against  Italian  sensuous- 
ness  that  the  finer  spiritual  perceptions  of  the  Teutonic 


ITALIAN  SENSUOUSNESS.  5! 5 

races  rose  in  revolt ;  and  the  Italians,  who  had  trans- 
mitted their  own  religious  forms  to  Europe,  could  not 
understand  the  point  at  issue.  Feeble  or  insufficient 
as  we  may  judge  this  realism  in  the  regions  of  pure 
'thought  or  pious  feeling,  it  was  supremely  powerful  in 
art.  It  enabled  the  Italians  so  to  apprehend  the 
mysteries  of  the  faith,  and  so  to  assimilate  the  classic 
myths,  as  to  find  for  both  a  form  of  beauty  in  sculp- 
ture and  in  painting.  Had  they  inclined  more  to  the 
abstract  or  to  the  visionary,  Christian  art  would  have 
remained  impossible.  Had  they  been  less  simply 
sensuous,  they  might  perhaps  have  shrunk  from  pagan 
legends,  or  have  failed  to  touch  them  with  the  right 
sincerity.  How  ill  these  legends  fared  at  the  hands 
of  contemporary  Teutonic  artists,  is  notorious.  -In  the 
realm  of  literature  the  same  quality  gave  to  Petrarch's 
treatment  of  chivalrous  love  a  new  substantiality. 
It  animated  Boccaccio,  and  through  his  influence 
created  a  literature  of  fiction,  indescribably  rich  in  ob- 
jective realism  and  spontaneous  passion.  Ariosto 
owed  to  it  the  incomparable  brilliance  of  his  pictures. 
And,  since  such  sensuousness  has  perforce  its  evil  side, 
we  find  it,  in  the  last  resort,  no  longer  clothing  unsub- 
stantial thoughts  with  forms  of  beauty,  lending  reality 
to  the  poet's  visions,  or  humanizing  the  austerities  of 
faith,  but  frankly  and  simply  subordinating  its  powers 
to  a  debased  imagination.  The  Italian  sensuousness 
too  often  degenerates  into  mere  sensuality  in  the 
period  of  our  inquiry.  Nor  is  this  the  only  defect  of 
the  quality.  When  we  complain  that  the  Italians  are 
deficient  in  the  highest  tragic  imagination,  that  their 
feeling-  for  nature  lacks  romance,  or  that  none  but  their 


5i6  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

rarest  works  of  art  attain  sublimity,  we  are  but  insist- 
ing on  the  realistic  bias  which  inclined  them  to  things 
tangible,  palpable,  experienced,  compassable  by  the 
senses.  How  much  of  tragedy  is  due  to  horror  the 
soul  alone  can  guage ;  how  much  of  romance  depends* 
upon  a  sense  of  mystery  and  unexplored  capacities  in 
natural  things;  how  much  of  the  sublime  consists  of 
incorporeal  vagueness,  need  not  here  be  insisted  on. 
The  sensuousness  of  the  Italians,  simpler  and  less 
finely  tempered  with  spiritual  substance  than  that  of 
the  Greeks,  while  it  gave  them  so  much  of  serene 
beauty  and  intelligible  form,  denied  them  those  high 
and  rare  touches  which  the  less  evenly  balanced  genius 
of  the  Northern  races  can  command  at  will.  The 
poverty  of  imaginative  suggestion  in  their  lyrical  and 
dramatic  poetry  has  been  already  indicated.  We  feel 
this  even  in  their  music.  The  most  adorable  melodies, 
poured  forth  like  nightingale  songs  in  the  great  schools 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  owe  their  perfection  to 
purity  of  outline;  their  magic  depends  on  a  direct 
appeal  to  sensibility.  There  is  not  in  them  "  more 
than  the  ear  discovers."  They  are  not,  to  quote  Sir 
Thomas  Browne  again,  "  a  hieroglyphical  and  shadowed 
lesson  of  the  whole  world  and  creatures  of  God." 
Palestrina  and  Stradella,  Pergolese  and  Salvator  Rosa, 
move  in  a  region  less  mystical  and  pregnant  with  ac- 
cumulated meaning  than  that  which  belongs  to  Bach 
and  Beethoven. 

The  intellectual  medium  formed  in  Italy  upon  the 
dissolution  of  the  middle  ages  was  irreligious  and  indif- 
ferent; highly  refined  and  highly  cultivated;  instinct- 
ively aesthetic  and  superbly  gifted,  but  devoid  of  moral 


INTELLECTUAL    ATMOSPHERE. 


5'7 


earnestness  or  patriotic  enthusiasm,  of  spiritual  passion 
or  political  energy.  Society,  enslaved,  disfranchised, 
and  unwarlike,  was  composed  of  peasants  and  artisans, 
sleek  citizens,  effeminated  nobles,  courtiers  and  scholars 
of  a  hundred  types,  monks  and  clergy  of  manifold 
variety  and  almost  incalculable  multitude,  despots  more 
or  less  successful  in  their  arts  of  imposition  and  seduc- 
tion, and  the  countless  dependents  on  the  wants  and 
whims  and  vices  of  this  motley  population.  Among 
the  last  may  be  reckoned  artists  of  all  but  the  first 
rank,  men  of  letters,  parasites  and  captains  of  adven- 
ture, courtesans  and  Abbes,  pamphleteers  and  bravi, 
orators  and  secretaries.  Outside  the  universities,  the 
factories  and  the  market-place,  there  were  few  callings 
that  could  be  reckoned  honorable  or  honest,  indepen- 
dent or  respectable.  Over  the  rest  hung  the  shadow 
of  servitude  and  corruption,  of  ecclesiastical  depravity 
and  private  debauchery,  of  political  stagnation  and 
haughty  patronage.  Still  the  qualities  of  intellectual 
sagacity,  determined  volition,  and  a  certain  aesthetical 
good  taste,  were  all  but  universal.  We  find  them  in 
such  works  as  Cellini's  biography,  Lorenzino  de' 
Medici's  apology,  and  the  memoirs  of  his  murderer — 
to  mention  only  documents  where  the  last-named 
quality  might  well  have  been  absent.  Even  the 
lowest  instruments  of  public  or  private  profligacy 
maintained  an  independence  face  to  face  with  art,  and 
recognized  a  higher  law  than  their  employer's  in  the 
duties  imposed  upon  them  by  the  ideal  after  which 
they  strove  as  men  of  letters,  painters  or  the  like.  We 
trace  this  loyal  service  and  artistic  freedom  even  in 
Pietro  Aretino. 


518  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

f 

A  literature,  corresponding  to  this  medium,  of 
necessity  arose.  It  was  a  literature  of  form  and  style, 
of  pleasure  and  diversion,  without  intensity  of  passion, 
earnestness  of  purpose,  or  profundity  of  thought.  It 
i  could  boast  no  Shakspere,  no  Pindar,  no  Dante,  no 
Descartes.  The  prevailing  types  which  it  developed, 
,  were  idyllic,  descriptive,  melodramatic,  narrative, 
elegiac,  sentimental,  burlesque,  and  licentious.  Polizi- 
ano,  Sannazzaro,  Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  Pulci,  the  writers 
of  Sonnets  and  Capitoli,  the  novelists  and  the  satirists, 
are  each  and  all  of  them  related  by  no  superficial  tie  to 
Boccaccio.  He  is  the  morning  star  of  this  multifarious 
and  brilliant  band  of  artist- authors,  until  the  moment 
when  Ariosto  rises  above  the  horizon,  and  the  cinque 
cento  finds  adequate  expression  in  the  Orlando  Furioso. 
In  that  poem  the  qualities  by  which  the  age  is  charac- 
terized, are  concentrated,  and  the  advance  in  artistic 
faculty  and  feeling  since  the  period  of  the  Decameron 
is  manifested.  Amid  the  many  writers  of  the  century 
we  seek  in  vain  a  true  philosopher.  We  have,  instead, 
to  content  ourselves  with  the  ethical  dissertations  of  the 
humanists;  with  sketches  like  the  Cortcgiano,  the 
Galatea,  the  Governo  della  Famiglia;  with  erudite 
fancies  like  the  speculations  of  Ficino,  or  the  scholastic 
triflings  of  Pico  della  Mirandola.  Yet  out  of  the  very 
indifferentism  of  the  age  philosophy  will  spring. 
Pomponazzi  formulates  the  current  materialism.  It 
remains  for  Telesio,  Campanella,  Bruno,  Galileo  to 
found  the  modern  scientific- method.  Meanwhile,  the 
political  agitations  of  despotisms  and  republics  alike, 
and  the  diplomatic  relations  of  so  many  petty  States, 
have  stimulated  observation  and  developed  the  powers 


GENERAL    TONE    OF  LITERATURE. 


5'9 


of  analysis.  Therefore  the  most  vigorous  and  virile 
product  of  this  literature  is  such  work  as  the  Principe 
and  Discorsi  of  Machiavelli,  the  Ricordi  of  Guicciardini, 
together  with  the  histories  and  reflective  treatises  on 
statecraft  published  by  the  statists  of  their  school. 

The  absence  of  seriousness  in  the  literature  of  the 
golden  age  is  striking  to  a  Northern  student.  It  seems 
to  have  been  produced  for  and  by  men  who  had  lost 
their  ethical  and  political  conscience,  and  had  en- 
throned an  sesthetical  conscience  in  its  room.  Their 
religious  indifference  is  deadlier  than  atheism.  Their 
levity  is  worse  than  sarcasm.  They  fulfill  the  epigram 
of  Tacitus,  who  wrote :  corrumpere  et  corrumpi  scecu- 
lum  vacant.  Yet  no  one  has  the  vigor  to  be  angry. 
It  is  difficult  to  detect  the  true  note  of  satire  in  their 
criticism  of  society.  Ariosto  is  playful,  Aretino  scur- 
rilous, Alamanni  peevish,  Folengo  atrabilious.  The 
purely  religious  compositions  of  the  period  lack  sim- 
plicity and  sincerity.  The  Sacre  Rappresentazioni  are 
sentimental  and  romantic.  The  Christian  epics  of 
the  Latin  poets  are  indescribably  frigid.  The  Laudi 
are  either  literary  like  Lorenzo's,  or  hysterical  like 
Benivieni's  praise  of  Christian  madness.  The  im- 
pertinent biographies  of  Aretino  pass  muster  for 
genuinely  pious  work  with  Vittoria  Colonna.  It  is 
only  in  some  heartfelt  utterance  of  the  aged  Michel- 
angelo, in  the  holy  life  of  a  S.  Antonino,  or  the  charity 
of  Luca  della  Robbia's  mission  to  young  Boscoli,  or  the 
fervor  of  Savonarola's  sermons,  that  here  and  there 
the  chord  of  real  religious  feeling  vibrates.  Philos- 
ophy entrenches  herself,  where  she  is  strongest,  in 
negation — in  Valla's  negation  of  any  ethical  standard 


520  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

superior  to  sensuous  hedonism,  in  Pomponazzi's  nega- 
tion of  immortality,  in  Machiavelli's  negation  of  Prov- 
idence. So  complete  an  antithesis  to  the  medieval 
ground  of  thought  was  necessary;  and  its  results  for 
the  future  of  science  are  incontestable.  But  at  the 
moment  it  meant  a  withdrawal  from  spiritual  interests, 
an  insistance  on  the  material  side  of  human  life,  which 
was  correlated  to  religious  indifference  and  social 
dissolution. 

The  drama  abounds  in  comedies  and  masks,  of 
wonderful  variety  and  great  artistic  beauty.  But 
there  is  no  tragedy  worthy  of  the  name.  And  the 
tragic  element,  as  distinguished  from  romance  and 
pathos,  is  conspicuous  by  its  absence  in  the  novels  of 
the  period.  Lyrical  poets  prefer  the  conscious  shams 
of  Petrarchism  to  any  genuine  utterance  of  emotion. 
The  gravity  of  La  Casa's  sonnets,  wrenched  from  an 
uneasy  and  unwilling  conscience,  the  sublimity  of 
Michelangelo's  Platonic  mysticism,  the  patriotic  in- 
dignation of  Guidiccioni's  laments  for  Italy  enslaved 
and  sunk  in  sensual  sloth,  must  rank  as  luminous  ex- 
ceptions. In  the  romantic  epic,  chivalry,  the  ideal  of 
an  earlier  age,  is  turned  to  gentle  ridicule.  Honor  is 
sneered  at  or  misunderstood.  The  absurd,  the  mar- 
velous, the  licentious  are  mingled  in  a  form  of  in- 
comparable artistic  suavity.  Tasso's  graver  epic 
belongs  to  another  epoch.  Trissino's  heroic  poem  is 
unreadable.  Like  the  tragedies  of  the  scholars,  it 
lacks  life  and  stands  in  rro  relation  to  the  spirit  of 
the  age. 

•\  Over  the  whole  art  and  literature  of  the  epoch  is 
i  shed  an  agreeable  light  of  quietude  and  acquiescence, 


IDYLLIC   QUIETUDE.  52r 

a  glow  of  contentment  and  well-being,  which  contrastsi 
strangely  with  the  tragic  circumstances  of  a  nation 
crumbling  into  an  abyss  of  ruin.  It  is  not  precisely 
the  bourgeois  felicity  of  Boccaccio,  but  a  tranquillity1 
that  finds  choicest  expression  in  the  painted  idyls  of  s 
Giorgione  and  the  written  idyls  of  Sannazzaro.  Its 
ultimate  ideal  is  the  Golden  Age,  when  no  restraints))1 
were  placed  on  natural  inclination,  and  no  ambition 
ruffled  the  spirit  rocked  in  halcyon  ease.  This  pre-1 
vailing  mood  of  artists  and  writers  was  capable  of 
sensuous  depth,  as  in  the  Bales  of  Pontano.  It  was 
capable  of  refined  irony,  as  in  the  smile  of  Ariosto. 
It  was  capable  of  broad  laughter,  as  in  the  farce  of 
Bibbiena.  It  was  capable  of  tenderness,  as  in  the 
Ballate  of  Poliziano.  It  was  capable  of  cynical  licen- 
tiousness, as  in  Aretino's  Ragionamenti,  and  the  Flor- 
entine Capitoli.  But  it  was  incapable  of  tragic  passion, 
lyrical  rapture,  intensity,  sublimity,  heroism.  What 
ears  would  there  have  been  in  Italy  for  Marston's  pro- 
logue to  Antonio  and  Mellida  or  for  Milton's  definition 
of  the  poet's  calling  ?  The  men  who  made  this  litera- 
ture and  those  with  whom  they  lived,  for  whom  they 
wrote,  were  well-bred,  satisfied  with  inactivity,  open  at 
all  pores  to  pleasure,  delighting  in  the  refinements  of 
tact  and  taste,  but  at  the  same  time  addicted  to  gross 
sensuality  of  word  and  deed.  The  world  was  over  for 
them.  The  arenas  of  energy  were  closed.  About 
the  future  life  they  entertained  a  suave  and  genial 
skepticism,  a  delicate  peut-etre  of  blended  affirmation 
and  negation,  lightly  worn,  which  did  not  interrupt  the 
observance  of  ceremonial  piety.  They  loved  their 
villa,  like  Flamminio,  Ficino,  Bembo,  all  the  poets  of 


522  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

Benacus.  They  spent  their  leisure  between  a  grove 
of  laurels  and  a  study.  They  met  in  courtly  circles 
for  polite  discourse  and  trifling  dissertation,  with  no  in- 
fluencing passion,  no  speculative  enthusiasm,  no  in- 
sight into  mysteries  deeper  than  the  subtleties  of  poetry 
and  art.  Not  one  of  them,  amid  the  crash  and  conflict 
of  three  nations  on  their  soil,  exclaimed  in  darkness 
Imus,  imus  prczcipites !  When  the  woes  of  Italy 
touched  them  with  a  shade  of  melancholy,  they  sought 
relief  in  pastimes  or  in  study.  Cinthio,  prefacing  his 
novels  with  the  horrors  of  the  Sack  of  Rome,  Bargagli 
using  Siena's  agony  as  introduction  to  his  love-ro- 
mances, are  parables  of  what  was  happening  in  the 
world  of  fact  and  feeling.  The  portrait  of  Castiglione, 
clear-browed,  sedate,  intelligent,  humane,  expresses  the 
best  men  of  the  best  moment  in  that  age.  The  Aminta 
is  their  dream-world,  modeled  on  reality.  Vida's  apos- 
trophe to  pulcherrima  Roma  utters  their  sentiment 
of  nationality. 

There  is  a  beautiful  side  to  all  this.  It  is  the 
v  idyllic  ideal  of  life,  revealed  in  Titian's  picture  of  the 
\Three  Ages  of  Man,  the  ideal  which  results  in  golden 
and  consummate  art,  tranquilized  to  euthanasia,  purged 
of  all  purpose  more  earnest  than  may  be  found  in 
melodies  played  beside  a  fountain  in  the  fields  by 
boys  to  listening  girls,  on  flute  or  viol.  For  this 
ideal  a  great  future  was  in  store,  when  the  anima- 
ting motive  of  idyllic  melody  expressed  itself  in  the 
opera  music  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  Italy  gave 
the  last  of  her  imperishable  gifts,  a  new  and  perfect 
art  of  song,  to  Europe.  But  there  is  also  an  ugly 
side  to  all  this.  The  ultimate  corruption  of  the  age — 


BEAUTY  AND    UGLINESS.  523 

in  its  absence  of  energy,  its  avoidance  of  serious  en- 
deavor, its  courtly  adulation,  its  ruffianism,  servility, 
cynicism  and  hypocrisy  —  is  incarnated  la  Aretino. 
Here  the  vices  of  the  Italian  Renaissance  show  their 
cloven  hoofs.  Through  the  orange  and  laurel 
bowers,  flooded  with  Tintoretto's  golden  sunlight, 
grins  a  bestial  all-devouring  satyr,  a  satyr  far  less  in- 
nocent or  gentle  than  Greek  poets  feigned,  with  a 
wolf's  jaws  as  well  as  a  goat's  legs.  And  in  Aretino 
is  already  foreshadowed  Baffo,  the  prurient  and  porcine 
Caliban  of  verse,  more  barbarously  bestial  than  Vene- 
tian Casanova.  Meanwhile  amid  apparent  civility  of 
manner,  the  violent  crimes  of  a  corrupt  and  servile 
race  were  frequent.  Poisoning  and  secret  assassina- 
.tion,  acts  of  personal  vengeance  and  the  employment 
of  hired  cut-throats,  rendered  life  unsafe  in  that  idyllic 
Italy. 

The  historian  of  this  epoch,  though  he  feels  its 
splendor  and  would  fain  bless,  finds  himself  forced  to 
insist  upon  the  darker  details  of  the  subject.  The 
triumphal  psean  of  his  opening  pages  ends,  too  often 
for  his  sympathy,  in  dissonance  and  wailing  echoes. 
Yet  it  would  be  unjust  and  unscientific  to  close  on  any 
note  of  lamentation,  when  the  achievements  of  the 
eldest-born  of  Europe's  daughters  stand  arrayed  .before 
him.  It  has  often  been  said  that  the  Renaissance 
presents  an  insoluble  problem.  Twy-natured  and  in- 
determinate, the  spirit  of  the  age  has  been  likened  to 
the  Sphinx,  whose  riddle  finds  no  CEdipus.  But  this 
language  is  at  best  rhetorical.  The  anomalies  and 
contradictions  of  a  period  to  which  we  owe  so  much 
of  our  spiritual  and  intellectual  force,  are  due  to  its 


524  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

transitional  character.  The  middle  ages  were  closed. 
The  modern  world  was  scarcely  formed.  This  inter- 
val was  chosen  for  the  re-birth  of  the  Italian  spirit, 
j  On  the  Italians  fell  the  complicated  and  perplexing 
(task  of  modulating  from  the  one  phase  to  the  other. 
/  And,  as  I  have  attempted  to  explain,  the  Italians  were 
a  peculiar  people.  They  had  resisted  the  Teutonic  im- 
pact of  the  medieval  past ;  but  they  had  failed  to  prepare 
themselves  for  the  drama  of  violence  and  bloodshed 
/which  the  feudal  races  played  out  on  the  plains  of 
/Lombardy.  When  we  say  that  it  was  their  duty  to 
have  formed  themselves  into  a  nation  like  the  French, 
we  are  criticising  their  conduct  from  a  modern  point  of 
view.  Experience  proved  that  their  policy  of  munici- 
pal independence  was  a  kind  of  suicide.  But  the  in- 
stincts of  clanship,  slowly  transmuted  through  feudal 
institutions  into  a  monarchical  system,  had  from  time 
immemorial  been  absent  in  Italy.  Rome  herself  had 
never  gathered  the  Italian  cities  into  what  we  call  a 
nation.  And  when  Rome,  the  world's  head,  fell,  the 
municipalities  of  Italy  remained,  and  the  Italian  people 
sprang  to  life  again  by  contact  with  theif  irrecoverable 
past.1  Then,  though  the  Church  swayed  Europe  from 
Italian  soil,  she  Iiad  nowhere  less  devoted  subjects 
than  in  Italy.  Proud  as  the  Italians  had  been  of  the 
Empire,  proud  as  they  now  were  of  the  Church,  still 
.neither  the  Roman  Empire  nor  the  Roman  Church  im- 
posed on  the  Italian  character.  Pondering  on  the 
unique  circumstances  of -this  new  nation,  unorganized 
like  her  sisters,  conscious  of  an  immense  past  and  a 

1  "  Roma,  caput  mundi,"  is  a  significant  phrase.    It  marks  the  defect 
of  Italian  nationality  as  distinguished  from  cosmopolitan  empire. 


PECULIAR    CONDITIONS    OF  ITALY.  525 

persistent  vitality,  shrewdly  apathetic  to  the  religious 
enthusiasms  of  the  younger  races,  yet  obliged  to 
temporize  and  acquiesce  and  cloak  indifference  with 
hypocrisy,  we  are  brought  to  feel,  though  we  may  not 
fully  explain,  the  inevitableness  of  many  distracting 
discords  in  what  was  still  an  incomplete  phase  of 
national  existence. 

As  a  final  consideration,  after  reviewing  the  anom- 
alies of  Italian  society  upon  the  dissolution  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  we  are  fully  justified  in  maintaining  that 
the  race  which  had  produced  Machiavelli  and  Colum- 
bus, Campanella  and  Galileo — that  is  to  say,  the  firm- 
est pioneers  and  freest  speculators  of  the  dawning 
modern  age — was  capable,  left  but  alone,  of  solving 
its  own  moral  contradictions  by  some  virile  effort. 
Pioneering  energy,  speculative  boldness,  virility  of 
effort  (however  masked  by  pedantry  and  purism,  by 
the  urbanities  and  amenities  of  polite  culture,  by  the 
baseness  of  egotism  and  the  immorality  of  social 
decadence),  were  the  deepest  notes  of  the  bewildering 
aore  which  forms  our  theme.  But  this  freedom  from 

o 

interference,  this  luck  of  being  left  alone,  was  just  what 
the  Italians  could  never  get.  The  catastrophes  of 
several  successive  invasions,  followed  by  the  petrify- 
ing stagnation  of  political  and  ecclesiastical  tyranny, 
checked  their  natural  evolution  and  suspended  their 
intellectual  life,  before  the  fruit-time  had  succeeded  to 
the  flower-time  of  the  Renaissance.  The  magnificent 
audacity  of  their  impulse  fell  checked  in  mid-career 
Their  achievement  might  be  likened  to  an  arch  ascend 
ino-  bravelv  from  two  mighty  piers,  whereon  the  key 

£>  * 

stone  of  completion  was  not  set. 


526  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

When  all  her  deities  were  decayed  or  broken,  Italy 
still  worshiped  beauty  in  fine  art  and  literary  form. 
When  all  her  energies  seemed  paralyzed,  she  still  pur- 
sued her  intellectual  development  with  unremitting 
ardor.  This  is  the  true  greatness  of  those  fifty  years 
of  glorious  achievement  and  pitiful  humiliation,  during 
which  the  Italians,  like  Archimedes  in  his  Syracusan 
watch-tower,  turned  deaf  ears  to  combatant  and  con- 
queror, intent  on  problems  that  involved  the  future 
destinies  of  man.  The  light  of  the  classics  had  fallen 
on  their  pathway  at  the  close  of  the  middle  ages.  The 
leading  of  that  light  they  still  pursued,  as  though  they 
had  been  consecrated  to  the  service  of  a  god  before 
unknown  in  modern  Europe.  Their  first  and  fore- 
most gift  to  nations  who  had  scourged  and  slain  them, 
was  a  new  and  radiant  conception  of  humanity.  This 
conception  externalized  itself  in  the  creation  of  a 
common  mental  atmosphere,  in  the  expression  of  the 
modern  spirit  by  fine  art  and  literature,  in  the  diffusion 
of  all  that  is  contained  for  us  in  culture.  They 
wrought,  thought,  painted,  carved  and  built  with  the 
antique  ideal  as  a  guiding  and  illuminative  principle 
in  view.  This  principle  enabled  them  to  elevate  and 
harmonize,  to  humanize  and  beautify  the  coarser  ele- 
ments existing  in  the  world  around  them.  What  they 
sought  and  clung  to  in  the  heritage  of  the  ancients, 
was  the  divinity  of  form — the  form  that  gives  grace, 
loveliness,  sublimity  to  „  common  flesh  and  blood  in 
art;  style  to  poetry  and  prose;  urbanity  to  social 
manners;  richness  and  elegance  to  reflections  upon 
history  and  statecraft  and  the  problems  of  still  infan- 
tine science.  Lastly,  whatsoever  is  implied  in  the 


GIFTS    OF  ITALY    TO   EUROPE.  527 

double  formula  of  the  discovery  of  man  and  of  the 
world — the  resuscitation  of  learning  by  scholars;  the 
positive  study  of  human  motives  and  action  by  his- 
torians; the  new  philosophy  prepared  by  speculators 
of  the  Southern  school;  the  revival  of  mathematical 
and  astronomical  researches  after  a  sound  method ;  the 
endeavor  to  base  physical  science  on  experiment  and 
observation ;  the  exploration  of  the  western  hemisphere 
by  navigators — all  this  we  owe  to  the  Italians  of  the 
fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries. 

We  may  allow  that  their  execution  of  a  task  so 
arduous  and  beneficial  was  accomplished  under  condi- 
tions of  social  corruption  and  political  apathy,  which 
somewhat  dimmed  the  luster  of  their  triumph.  It  may' 
be  admitted  that  they  failed,  even  in  their  own  domains 
of  art  and  poetry,  to  realize  the  highest  possible  ideals ; 
and  we  may  ascribe  this  failure  partly  to  their  moral 
feebleness,  which  contradicts  our  sense  of  manhoock 
Still  these  are  no  reasons  why  we  should  not  pay  the 
homage  due  to  their  achievement.  The  deepest  in- 
terest in  the  Italian  Renaissance,  the  warmest  recog- 
nition of  its  services  to  modern  Europe,  are  compatible 
with  a  just  conviction  that  the  tone  of  that  epoch  is 
not  to  be  imitated.  Such  imitation  would,  in  point  of 
fact,  be  not  merely  anachronistic  but  impossible.  To 
insist  on  anything  so  obvious  would  be  impertinent 
to  common  sense,  were  we  not  from  time  to  time  ad- 
monished from  the  chair  of  criticism  that  a  new  Gospel, 
founded  on  the  principles  of  the  Renaissance,  has  been 
or  is  being  preached  in  England.  Criticism,  however, 
is  fallible ;  and  in  this  matter  its  mistake  is  due  to  the 
English  incapacity  for  understanding  that  scientific 


528  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

curiosity  may  be  engaged,  without  didactic  objects,  on 
moral  and  historical  problems.  We  cannot  extract  from 
the  Renaissance  a  body  of  ethical  teaching,  an  ideal  of 
conduct,  or  a  discipline  of  manners,  applicable  to  the 
altered  conditions  of  the  nineteenth  century.  But  we 
can  exercise  our  ingenuity  upon  the  complex  ques- 
tions which  it  offers ;  we  can  satisfy  the  passion  of 
inquiry,  which  prompts  men  to  examine,  analyze,  re- 
flect upon,  and  reappropriate  the  past.  We  can  at- 
tempt to  depict  the  period,  as  we  recover  a  phase  of 
our  own  youth  by  recollection,  extenuating  nothing, 
setting  nothing  down  in  malice,  using  the  results  of 
our  researches  for  no  purposes  of  propaganda,  but 
aiming,  in  so  far  as  our  capacity  sustains  us,  at  the 
simple  truth  about  it. 

For  a  student  animated  with  this  passion  of  curi- 
osity, the  Italian  Renaissance,  independently  of  any 
sympathies  he  may  have  formed  for  the  Italian  people, 
or  any  fascination  which  an  age  and  race  so  pictur- 
esque may  exercise,  must  be  a  subject  worthy  of  most 
patient  contemplation.  As  we  grow  in  knowledge, 
corroborating  and  confirming  those  views  about  the 
world  and  man  which  originated  with  the  new  direction 
given  to  inquiry  in  the  fifteenth  century,  we  learn  with 
ever  stronger  certainty,  that  as  there  is  no  interruption 
in  the  order  of  nature,  so  the  history  of  civilization  is 
continuous  and  undivided.  In  the  sequence  of  events, 
in  the  growth  of  human  character,  no  arbitrary  freaks, 
no  flaws  of  chance,  are  recognizable.  Age  succeeds  to 
age ;  nations  rise  and  perish ;  new  elements  are  intro- 
duced at  intervals  into  the  common  stock ;  the  drama 
is  not  played  out  with  one  set  of  actors.  But,  in  spitel 


TRUE    CONCEPTION  OF  HISTORY.  529 

of  all  change,  and  though  we  cannot  as  yet  demonstrate 
the  law  of  evolution  in  details,  we  are  reasonably  con- 
vinced that  the  development  of  human  energy  and 
intellectual  consciousness  has  been  carried  on  without 
cessation  from  the  earliest  times  until  the  present 
moment,  and  is  destined  to  unbroken  progress  through 
the  centuries  before  us.  History,  under  the  influence  of 
this  conception,  is  rapidly  ceasing  to  be  the  record  of 
external  incidents,  of  isolated  moments,  or  of  brilliant 
episodes  in  the  epic  of  humanity.  We  have  learned  to 
look  upon  it  as  the  biography  of  man.  To  (trace  the 
continuity  of  civilization  through  the  labyrinths  of 
chance  and  error  and  suspended  energy,  apparent  to  a 
superficial  glance  or  partial  knowledge,  but  on  closer 
observation  and  a  wider  sweep  of  vision  found  to 
disappear,  is  the  highest  aim  of  the  historian.  The 
germ  of  this  new  notion  of  man's  life  upon  our  planet 
was  contained  in  the  cardinal  intuition  of  the  Renais- 
sance, when  the  ancient  and  the  modern  worlds  were 
recognized  as  one.  It  assumed  the  dignity  of  organized 
speculation  in  the  German  philosophies  of  history,  and 
in  the  positive  philosophy  of  Auguste  Comte.  It  has 
received  its  most  powerful  corroboration  from  recent 
physical  discoveries,  and  has  acquired  firmer  con- 
sistency in  the  Darwinian  speculation.  Whether  we 
approach  the  problem  from  a  theological,  a  positive,  or 
a  purely  scientific  point  of  view,  the  force  of  the  hypo- 
thesis remains  unaltered.  We  are  obliged  to  think  of 
civilized  humanity  as  one. 

In  this  unbroken  sequence  of  events,  a  place  of 
prime  importance  must  be  assigned  to  the  Renais- 
sance; and  the  Italian  race  at  that  moment  must  be 


530  RENAISSANCE   IN  ITALY. 

[regarded,  for  a  short  while  at  least,  as  the  protagonist 
•of  the  universal  drama.  The  first  stage  of  civilization 
is  by  common  consent  assigned  to  the  Eastern  empires 
of  remote  antiquity ;  the  second  to  the  Hellenic  system 
of  civic  liberty  and  intellectual  energy ;  the  third  to 
&oman  organization.  During  the  third  period  a  new 
spiritual  force  was  evolved  in  Christianity,  and  new 
factors  were  introduced  into  Europe  by  the  immigra- 
tion of  the  Northern  races.  The  fourth  historical 
period  is  occupied  by  the  Church  and  feudalism,  the 
first  inheriting  Roman  organization,  the  second  helping 
to  constitute  the  immigrant  races  into  new  nationali- 
ties. {The  fifth  great  epoch  is  the  emancipation  of 
modern  Europe  from  medieval  influences.  We  may 
be  said  to  live  in  it;  for  though  the  work  of  liberation 
has  in  large  measure  been  accomplished,  no  new  social 
principle  or  comprehensive  system  has  yet  supervened. 
Three  movements  in  the  process  can,  however,  be  dis- 
cerned; and  these  are  respectively  known  by  the 
names  of  Renaissance,  Reformation,  Revolution.  It 
was  in  the  first  of  these  three  stages  that  Italy  deter- 
mined the  course  of  civilization.  To  neglect  the  work 
achieved  by  Italy,  before  the  other  nations  of  Europe 
had  emerged  from  feudalism,  is  tantamount  to  dropping 
a  link  indispensable  to  the  strength  and  cohesion  of 
the  whole  chain. 

Accustomed  to  regard  the  Church  as  a  political 
member  of  their  own  confederation,  and  withdrawn 
from  the  feudal  system  *by  the  action  of  their  com- 
munes, the  Italians  were  specially  fitted  to  perform 
their  task.  The  conditions  under  which  they  lived  as 
the  inheritors  of  Rome,  obliged  them  to  look  back- 


IMPORTANCE    OF    THE    RENAISSANCE.  531 

ward  instead  of  forward;  and  from  this  necessity 
emerged  the  Revival  of  Learning,  which  not  only  re- 
stored the  interrupted  consciousness  of  human  unity,  but 
supplied  the  needful  starting-point  for  a  new  period  of 
intellectual  growth.  The  connection  between  the 
study  of  classical  literature,  scientific  investigation, 
and  Biblical  criticism,  has  been  already  insisted  on  in 
this  work.  From  the  Renaissance  sprang  the  Reforma- 
tion, veiling  the  same  spirit  in  another  form,  before  the; 
Church  bethought  herself  of  quenching  the  new  lighw 
in  Italy.  Without  the  skeptical  and  critical  industry  of 
the  Italians;  without  their  bold  explorations  in  the  fields  \ 
of  philosophy,  theology  and  political  science;  without 
their  digging  round  the  roots  of  human  knowledge; 
without  their  frank  disavowal  of  past  medieval  tran- 
scendentalism; neither  the  German  Reformation  nor 
the  advance  of  speculative  thought  in  France,  Holland 
and  England,  would  have  been  possible. 

To  pursue  the  subject  further  is  not  necessary. 
How  the  Revolution  was  linked  to  the  Reformation 
by  the  intermediate  action  of  Holland,  England  and 
America;  and  how  the  European  peoples,  educated 
after  the  type  designed  by  Italian  humanists,  formed  their 
literatures,  built  up  philosophies,  and  based  positive 
inquiry  on  solid  foundations,  are  matters  too  well  known 
and  have  too  often  been  already  noted  to  need  illus- 
tration. It  is  enough  for  a  student  of  the  Renaissance 
to  have  suggested  that  the  peculiar  circumstances  and 
sympathies  of  the  Italians,  at  a  certain  moment  of  this 
modern  evolution,  forced  and  enabled  them  to  do  what 
was  imperatively  demanded  for  its  after  progress.  That 
they  led  the  van  of  liberation;  that,  like  the  Jews 


532  RENAISSANCE  IN  ITALY. 

and  Greeks,  their  predecessors,  they  sacrificed  their  in- 
dependence in  the  very  triumph  of  achievement;  are 
claims  upon  our  everlasting  gratitude.  This  lends  the 
interest  of  romance  or  drama  to  the  doleful  tale  of 
depredation  and  enslavement  which  concludes  the  his- 
tory of  the  Italian  Renaissance. 


APPENDICES. 


APPENDIX    I. 

(See  above,  chapter  xi.) 
Italian  Comic  Prologues. 

THE  current  of  opinion  represented  by  the  prologues  to 
Italian  comedies  deserves  some  further  illustration. 

Bibbiena,  in  the  Calandra,  starts  with  what  is  tantamount 
to  an  apology  for  the  modern  style  of  his  play.  "  Voi  sarete 
oggi  spettatori  d'  una  nuova  commedia  intitolata  Calandra, 
in  prosa  non  in  versi,  moderna  non  antica,  volgare  non  latina." 
He  then  explains  why  he  has  chosen  the  language  of  his  age 
and  nation,  taking  great  pains  to  combat  learned  prejudices 
in  favor  of  pure  Latin.  At  the  close  he  defends  himself 
from  the  charge  of  having  robbed  from  Plautus,  confessing 
at  the  same  time  that  he  has  done  so,  and  thus  restricting 
his  earlier  boast  of  novelty  to  the  bare  point  of  diction. 

In  the  prose  Cassaria,  which  was  contemporaneous  with 
the  Calandra,  Ariosto  takes  the  same  line: 

Nuova  commedia  v'  appresento,  plena 
Di  vari  giuochi;  che  ne  mai  latine 
Ne  greche  lingue  recitarno  in  scena. 

Parmi  vedere  che  la  piO  parte  incline 
A  riprenderla,  subito  ch*  ho  detto 
Nuova,  senza  ascoltarne  mezzo  o  fine: 

Che  tale  impresa  non  gli  par  suggetto 
Delli  moderni  ingegni,  e  solo  stima 
Quel,  che  gli  antiqui  han  detto,  esser  perfetto. 

He  then  proceeds  to  defend  his  own  audacity,  which  really 
consists  in  no  more  than  the  attempt  to  remodel  a  Latin 


534  APPENDIX  I. 

play.  In  the  prologue  to  the  prose  Suppositi  Ariosto  fol- 
lows a  different  course,  apologizing  for  his  contaminatio  of 
Plautus  and  Terence  by  the  argument  that  they  borrowed 
from  Menander  and  Apollodorus. 

Machiavelli  in  the  prologue  to  the  Clizia  says  that  history 
repeats  itself.  What  happened  at  Athens,  happened  yester- 
day at  Florence.  He  has,  therefore,  laid  his  scene  at  Flor- 
ence: "perch£  Atene  e  rovinata,  le  vie,  le  piazze,  i  luoghi  non 
vi  si  riconoscono."  He  thus  justifies  the  modern  rifacimento 
of  an  ancient  comedy  conducted  upon  classical  principles. 

Gelli  in  the  Sporta  reproduces  Ariosto's  defense  for  the 
Suppositi.  If  he  has  borrowed  from  Plautus  and  Terence, 
they  borrowed  from  Menander.  Then  follows  an  acute  de- 
scription of  comedy  as  it  should  be:  "  La  commedia,  per  non 
essere  elleno  altro  ch'  uno  specchio  di  costumi  delja  vita 
privata  e  civile  sotto  una  imaginazione  di  veritk,  non  tratto 
da  altro  che  di  cose,  che  tutto  '1  giorno  accaggiono  al  viver 
nostro,  non  ci  vedrete  riconoscimenti  di  giovani  o  di  fanciulle 
che  oggidi  non  ne  occorre." 

Cecchi  in  the  Martello  says  he  has  followed  the  Asinaria: 
Rimbustata  a  suo  dosso,  e  su  compostovi 
(Aggiungendo  e  levando,  come  meglio 
Gli  e  parso;  e  ci6,  non  per  corregger  Plauto. 
Ma  per  accomodarsi  ai  tempi  e  agli  uomini 
Che  ci  sono  oggidi)  questa  sua  favola. 

In  the  Moglie  and  the  Dissimili  he  makes  similar  state- 
ments, preferring  "  la  opinione  di  quelli  maestri  migliori  " 
(probably  Ariosto  and  Machiavelli),  and  also: 

perchS  il  medesimo 
Ved'  egli  che  hanno  fatto  li  piti  nobili 
Comici  che  vi  sieno. 

Lorenzino  de'  Medici  in  his  prologue  to  the  Aridosio  tells 
the  audience  they  must  notfci>e  angry  if  they  see  the  usual 
lover,  miser,  and  crafty  servant,  "e  simil  cose  delle  quali 
non  pu6  uscire  chi  vuol  fare  commedie." 

These  quotations  may  suffice.  If  we  analyze  them,  it  is 
clear  that  at  first  the  comic  playwrights  felt  bound  to  apol- 
ogize for  writing  in  Italian;  next,  that  they  had  to  defend 


APPENDIX  I. 


535 


themselves  against  the  charge  of  plagiarism;  and  in  the  third 
place  that,  when  the  public  became  accustomed  to  Latinizing 
comedies  in  the  vulgar  tongue,  they  undertook  the  more 
difficult  task  of  justifying  the  usage  which  introduced  so  many 
obsolete,  monotonous,  and  anachronistic  elements  into  dra- 
matic literature.  At  first  they  were  afraid  to  innovate  even 
to  the  slight  extent  of  adaptation.  At  last  they  were  driven 
to  vindicate  their  artificial  forms  of  art  on  the  score  of  pre- 
scribed usage.  But  when  Cecchi  and  Lorenzino  de'  Medici 
advanced  these  pleas,  which  seem  to  indicate  a  desire  on  the 
part  of  their  public  for  a  more  original  and  modern  comedy, 
the  form  was  too  fixed  to  be  altered.  Aretino,  boldly  break- 
ing with  tradition,  had  effected  nothing.  II  Lasca,  laughing 
at  the  learned  unrealities  of  his  contemporaries,  was  not 
strong  enough  to  burst  their  fetters.  Nothing  was  left  for 
the  playwrights  but  to  go  on  cutting  down  the  old  clothes 
of  Plautus  and  Terence  to  fit  their  own  backs — as  Cecchi 
puts  it. 


APPENDIX   II. 

(See  above,  chapter  xiv.) 

Passages  translated  from  Folengo  and  Berni,  which  illustrate 
the  Lutheran  opinions  of  the  Burlesque  Poets. 

ORLANDINO  VI.  41. 

"To  Thee,  and  not  to  any  Saint  I  go; 

How  should  their  mediation  here  succeed  ? 

The  Canaanitish  woman,  well  I  know, 

Prayed  not  to  James  or  Peter  in  her  need; 

She  had  recourse  to  only  Thee;  and  so, 

Alone  with  Thee  alone,  I  hope  and  plead. 

Thou  know'st  my  weal  and  woe;  make  plain  the  way, 

Thou,  Lord,  for  to  none  other  dare  I  pray. 

"Nor  will  I  wander  with  the  common  kind, 
Who,  clogged  with  falsehood  and  credulity, 
Make  vows  to  Gothard  or  to  Roch,  and  mind 
I  know  not  what  Saint  Bovo  more  than  Thee; 
Because  some  friar,  as  cunning  as  they're  blind, 
Offering  to  Moloch,  his  dark  deity, 
Causes  Thy  Mother,  up  in  heaven,  a  Queen, 
To  load  with  spoil  his  sacrifice  obscene. 

"  Beneath  the  husk  of  piety  these  friars 
Make  a  huge  harvest  for  themselves  to  hold; 
The  alms  on  Mary's  altar  quench  the  fires 
Of  impious  greed  in  priests  who  burn  for  gold: 
Another  of  their  odious  laws  requires 
That  year  by  year  my  faults  should  still  be  told 
To  a  monk's  ears: — I  who  am  young  and  fair! — 
He  hears,  and  straightway  flogs  his  shoulders  bare: 


APPENDIX  II. 

"  He  flogs  himself  because  he  feels  the  sting 
My  words,  impregnate  with  lasciviousness, 
Send  to  his  heart;  so  sharp  are  they,  and  wring 
His  lust  so  nearly,  that,  in  sore  distress, 
With  wiles  and  wheedling  ways,  he  seeks  to  bring 
Me  in  his  secret  will  to  acquiesce; 
And  here  confessors  oft  are  shown  to  be 
More  learned  in  pimping  than  divinity. 

"Therefore,  O  Lord,  that  know'st  the  heart  of  man, 
And  seest  Thy  Church  in  these  same  friars'  grasp, 
To  Thee  with  contrite  soul,  as  sinners  can, 
Who  hope  their  faults  forgiven,  my  hands  I  clasp; 
And  if,  my  God,  from  this  mad  ocean 
Thou'lt  save  me,  now,  as  at  my  latest  gasp, 
I  vow  that  never  more  will  I  trust  any 
Who  grant  indulgences  for  pound  or  penny." 

Such  prayers,  chock-full  of  rankest  heresy, 
Prayed  Berta;  for  she  was  a  German  wench: 
In  those  days,  you  must  know,  theology 
Had  changed  herself  to  Roman,  Flemish,  French; 
But  I've  my  doubts  that  in  the  end  she'll  be 
Found  squatting  h  la  Moor  on  some  Turk's  bench, 
Because  Christ's  seamless  coat  has  so  been  tattered 
Its  rags  have  long  since  to  the  winds  been  scattered. 

ORLANDINO  VIII.  22. 

"I  do  not  marvel  much,"  Rainero  cried, 
"  If  the  lambs  suffer  scandals  and  the  fold 
Be  ruined  by  these  wolves  of  lust  and  pride, 
Foemen  to  God  beneath  God's  flag  enrolled: 
But  for  the  present  need  I'll  soon  provide — 
Ho !  to  my  presence  drag  yon  Prior  bold  ! " 
Sharp  were  the  words;  the  sheriff  in  a  skurry, 
He  and  his  Serjeants  to  the  convent  hurry, 

Drag  forth  that  mons/r'  horrendum  from  his  lair, 
And  lead  him  straight  to  Rayner  on  his  throne; 
Folk  run  together  at  the  brute  to  stare, 
You  never  saw  an  ox  so  overgrown; 


APPENDIX  II. 

And  not  a  man  but  stops  his  nostrils  there 

From  the  foul  stench  of  wine,  sweat,  filth  unknown; 

One  calls  him  Bacchus,  and  Silenus  one, 

Or  hog,  or  bag  of  beastliness,  or  tun. 

"Stand  forth  before  my  face,"  Rainero  cries, 
"Thou  man  of  God,  prophet  most  reverend! 
I  know  that  thou  in  all  the  lore  art  wise, 
Of  things  divine,  and  what  the  stars  portend; 
With  thee  the  freedom  of  S.  Peter  lies, 
Great  freedom  though  but  little  pelf  to  spend ! 
Stand  forth,  I  say,  before  me,  Father  blest; 
There  are  some  doubts  I'd  fain  have  put  to  rest. 

"Truly  thou  know'st  e'en  better  how  much  tripe 

Must  go  to  stuff  the  cupboard  of  thy  prog: 

Tis  there  are  stowed  more  fish,  flesh,  onions  ripe, 

Than  there  be  leaves  in  forest,  field,  or  bog: 

Thy  scores  of  partridge,  pheasant,  woodcock,  snipe, 

Outnumber  the  sea  sands,  thou  gorging  dog ! 

Therefore  I  honor  thee  no  more  nor  less 

Than  a  beast  filled  with  filth,  a  stinking  cess. 

"  Bundle  of  guts,  hast  thou  no  shame  to  show 
Thy  visage  to  the  eyes  of  living  wight  ? 
Think'st  thou  that  'tis  for  nothing  thou  dost  owe 
Thy  calling  to  Christ's  sheepfold  ?     By  this  light, 
Judas  the  traitor  did  no  worse,  I  know, 
Than  thou  what  time  he  sold  his  Lord  at  night; 
Caiaphas,  Annas,  Herod,  Pilate,  all 
Helped  Pluto  less  than  thou  man's  soul  to  thrall. 

"Think'st  thou  the  Benedicts,  Pauls,  Anthonies, 
Gave  rules  like  thine  unto  their  neophytes  ? 
They  fed  on  lentils,  beans,  peas,  cabbages, 
Curbing  their  own  rebellions  appetites, 
Not  merely  preaching  how  the  spirit  flees 
From  Satan's  fraud  and  his  accursed  rites; 
They  slept  on  sand  and  marble  cold,  and  sang 
Psalms  that  through  night  and  day  unceasing  rang. 


APPENDIX  II. 


539 


"Quiet  within  their  cells  they  stayed,  nor  dealt 
On  street  or  square  with  idle  loitering  bands; 
Kindly  to  wayfarers  and  meek,  they  knelt 
To  wash  their  feet,  and  not,  like  you,  their  hands; 
And  when  they  left  the  cloisters  where  they  dwelt, 
To  traverse  hills  or  plains  in  foreign  lands, 
A  staff  or  crutch  upon  their  pilgrimage 
Sufficed  to  prop  the  faltering  steps  of  age. 

"That  frugal  diet  of  plain  herb  and  root 
You've  changed  to-day  for  quails  and  partridj 
Some  miracle  has  turned  to  flesh  their  fruit, 
Their  acorns,  brambles,  and  wild  strawberries; 
The  straw  they  slept  on,  hath  grown  dissolute 
With  down  and  cushions;  their  lean  visages 
Are  swathed  in  fat,  with  double,  treble  chins, 
Red  as  the  sun's  face  when  the  day  begins. 

"Their  staves  and  crutches,  O  rare  miracle 
Wrought  by  these  living  Saints  !  are  steeds  of  price; 
Their  reed-built  cot,  refectory  or  cell, 
Soar  into  palaces  that  flout  the  skies; 
In  many  an  Abbey  now  lewd  strumpets  dwell, 
Hounds,  hawks,  the  instruments  of  pride  and  vice: — 
Fools,  madmen,  idiots,  maniacs  are  ye, 
Who've  left  to  priests  or  friars  your  wealth  in  fee ! 

"What  could  be  worse  impiety  than  thus 
To  rob  your  lawful  kindred  of  their  own, 
And  squander  it  on  those  obstreperous 
Bell-ringing  monks,  who  let  one  voice  alone 
Speak  in  the  Church  for  twenty  ? — All  that  fuss 
In  praise  of  poverty  is  only  shown 
To  bait  beneath  the  shadow  of  their  cowl 
Some  gudgeon,  or  birdlime  some  silly  fowl ! " 

Such  things  and  others  full  of  angry  spite 

Said  Rayner,  contrary  to  sober  reason; 

For  if  a  man  should  lose  his  temper  quite, 

Sense  leaves  him,  he  can't  speak  one  word  in  season: 


540  APPENDIX  II. 

But  when  Church  rights  and  wrongs  their  wrath  excite, 
I've  noticed  that  your  great  men  often  seize  on 
Some  crazy  fad;  they  fancy,  O  how  silly  1 
That  friars  should  feed  on  acorns,  willy-nilly. 

Then  spake  the  Prior:  "Noble  Lord  and  Sir! 

With  your  forbearance  I'll  speak  with  precision. 

Eccksia  Dei  ne'er  was  known  to  err; 

You  may  have  read  in  Tully  this  decision: 

The  Stagyrite,  our  sole  interpreter 

Of  Gospel  text,  confirms  this  definition — 

Quod  merum  Laicus  non  detjudicare 

Clericam  Preii  et  Fratris  scapulare. 

"There  is  a  gloss  which  lays  down,  quod Prelatum 

Non  est  subjectus  legi  Constantina, 

Affirmans  eo  quod  nullum  peccatum 

Acridit  in  persona  et  re  divina. 

Et  hoc  ddnceps  fuit  roboratum 

In  capite,  Ne  agro  a  Clementina. 

Et  prtnceps,  qui  de  Ecclesia  se  impazzabit, 

Scomunicatus  cito  publicabit. 

"Saith  Thomas  in  a  text  on  which  I've  pored, 

Second  distinction  of  his  Chapter  quo, 

Quod  unde  Spirtus  Sanctum  hath  been  stored, 

Possibile  non  est  for  sin  to  accrue: 

My  life  hath  naught  to  hide,  illustrious  Lord, 

In  visu  verbo  et  opera  from  you; 

For  Christ  himself  our  Saviour  teaches  that, 

Speaking  to  all,  lux  vestra  luceat. 

"  Behold  and  see  how  next  my  skin  I  wear 
A  shirt  of  wool  instead  of  linen  fine ! 
By  hair-cloth  of  this  texture  you  may  swear 
I  circumspectly  walk  in  duty's  line. 
Look  now  a  little  lower ! " — Free  and  fair 
Laughed  Rayner,  when  the  excellent  divine 
Shows  all  he's  got — an  illustration  purer 
Than  e'er  occurred  to  Saint  Bonaventura. 


APPENDIX  II. 

ORLANDINO  VIII.  73. 
I  am  no  heretic,  as  to  my  shame 
Before  the  common  folk  you  christen  me ! 
Perchance  your  lofty  Reverence  will  claim 
Me  for  a  cut-throat,  come  from  Saxony, 
To  wreak  my  violence  on  Rome's  dread  name ! 
Yet  you  are  wrong:  for,  look  you,  Burgundy 
Trusts  less  in  German  Bishops,  or  in  French, 
Or  Spanish,  than  the  mighty  Roman  Bench. 

Far  more  I  trust  in  the  high  Trinity, 

In  Father,  Son,  and  eke  the  Spirit  blest; 

In  Mary's  undefiled  virginity, 

Since  God  from  her  derived  his  fleshly  vest; 

I  trust  in  that  inscrutable  potency 

Granted  from  God  to  man,  by  which  behest 

He  dares,  if  his  enormities  be  great, 

Call  himself,  not  God,  but  God's  delegate. 

It  is  my  creed  that  the  good  Jesus  wrought 
All  that  He  came  to  witness  here  below; 
I  hold  that  the  predicted  sword  he  brought, 
Came  to  bring  peace  on  earth  and  also  woe; 
I  hold  that  a  thief's  tear,  repentance-fraught, 
Shuts  Hell  and  opens  Heaven;  and  this  I  know 
That  the  firm  truth  of  what  the  Gospel  saith, 
Is  naught  but  pure  and  uncorrupted  Faith. 

I  hold  that  He  was  fair  without  one  flaw, 
Wore  beard  and  locks  around  his  shoulder  sprent; 
I  hold  the  Lamb's  blood  abrogates  the  law 
And  every  type  of  that  old  Testament; 
Wherefore  I  hold  there  differs  not  a  straw 
Betwixt  the  tonsure  and  the  hair  unshent; 
But  I  believe  the  clergy  still  were  known 
For  rebels  to  His  work  and  will  alone. 

I  hold  that  on  the  motion  of  a  lewd 
Pope  of  that  year,  with  certain  Pharisees, 
Pilate  did  nail  Him  to  the  cruel  wood 
Between  two  thieves  with  fierce  indignities; 


54i 


54  2  '  APPENDIX  II. 

I  hold  that  thence  for  men  a  pledge  accrued, 
And  memory  so  sweet  that  still  it  frees 
Us  from  God's  righteous  anger,  and  discloses 
The  veil  that  clung  before  the  eyes  of  Moses. 

I  speak  of  His  dire  passion,  and  the  boon 

Most  wondrous  of  His  body  and  His  blood, 

Eating  the  which  all  persons  late  or  soon 

May  quit  those  quails  and  grouse,  their  desert  food; 

I  hold  that  Christ  seeks  not  for  eyes  that  swoon, 

Wry  necks,  and  faces  set  to  solemn  mood; 

But  for  the  heart  alone:  this  is  my  creed; 

If  it  be  wrong,  I  waste  vain  breath  indeed. 

I  hold  that  Hell  exists,  and  Purgatory, 
Beyond  this  world;  and  here  I  prove  it  too: 
Wherefore,  in  concert  with  S.  Paul,  I  glory 
In  having  passed  those  many  trials  through, 
Not  by  my  might  but  that  great  adjutory, 
Who  calls  aloud  with  ringing  voice  and  true; 
Perils  mid  hills  and  robbers,  storms  and  fires, 
Perils  at  sea,  and  perils  from  false  friars ! 

My  Saviour  in  the  flesh  I  trust  to  see, 

And  hope  for  ever  to  enjoy  His  sight: — 

But  here  the  force  of  faith  abandons  me; 

Help  then,  thou  Bishop,  Great  Albertus  hight ! 

Son  of  Nichomachus,  I  turn  to  thee, 

Dubbed  Doctor  of  the  Church  by  Thomas  wight, 

Without  whose  Metaphysic,  as  I've  read, 

The  Verbum  Dei  were  but  ill  bestead. 

I  hold  that  a  lay  sinner  can  repent; 
That  Churchmen  never  are  what  they  pretend — 
I  speak  of  bad  ones: — d'you  mistake  my  bent, 
And  in  God's  house  def)T<ne  to  contend? — 
Pray  softly,  softly !     It  was  never  meant, 
Good  servants  of  our  Lord,  your  fame  to  rend: 
Nay,  you  I  honor,  since  you  please  God  duly; 
Places  I'd  change  with^«  really  and  truly: 


APPENDIX  II.  543 

Gainst  scapular  and  cord  I've  naught  to  tell, 
Gainst  cowl  or  tassel,  breviary  or  book; 
That  superstition  need  not  choke  you,  well 
I  know;  you  may  be  pious  as  you  look: 
I  swear  to  all  that  no  man  here  should  smell 
Disparagement  to  monks,  from  prior  to  cook; 
I'm  aiming  at  those  wolves  and  hirelings  fairly, 
Who  give  large  orders  and  perform  them  sparely. 


ORLANDO  INNAMORATO,   CANTO  XX.    THE  SUPPRESSED 
INDUCTION. 

A  brand-new  story  now  compels  my  song, 
To  make  the  twentieth  canto  bright  and  clear, 
Whence  all  the  world  shall  plainly  learn  ere  long 
Some  saints  are  not  such  saints  as  they  appear; 
For  cowls,  gray,  blue  or  black,  a  motley  throng, 
With  dangling  breviaries  and  brows  severe, 
And  often  naming  on  the  lips  our  Lord, 
While  the  heart's  cold,  no  sanctity  afford. 

A  cupping-glass  upon  your  skull,  a  leech, 

A  blister,  or  a  tonsure,  are  all  one; 

It  will  not  help  you  though  you  gird  your  breech 

With  several  braces  or  with  one  alone; 

Or  wear  straight  vestments,  long  and  lank,  that  reach 

Like  coachmen's  great-coats  to  your  heels,  or  drone 

Gibberish  and  Paternosters: — Sainthood  needs 

More  than  fair  words  for  foul  and  filthy  deeds. 

The  hands  are  where  true  charity  begins; 

Not  the  mouth,  face,  or  clothes:  be  mild,  humane, 

Reticent,  sorry  for  your  neighbor's  sins, 

Pitiful  to  his  suffering  and  his  pain: 

Christians  need  wear  no  masks;  who  wears  them,  wins 

A  backway  to  the  fold,  and  brings  it  bane, 

Scaling  the  wall  by  craft — a  traitor  he, 

A  thief  and  knave,  who  deals  in  subtlety. 


544  APPENDIX  II. 

These  be  that  tribe  of  rogues  and  rascals  whom 
Our  good  Lord  hates,  the  race  on  whom  alone 
In  wrath  he  uttered  that  tremendous  doom, 
Though  every  other  fault  he  could  condone: 
Ye  whited  sepulchers,  ye  living  tomb, 
Fire  on  the  surface,  in  the  soul  a  stone  1 
Why  will  ye  wash  the  outside  of  the  platter  ? 
First  cleanse  your  heart — that  is  the  graver  matter ! 

Tis  said  by  some  that  by  and  by  the  good 

Pope  and  his  Prelates  will  reform  their  ways: 

I  tell  you  that  a  turnip  has  no  blood, 

Nor  sick  folk  health,  nor  can  you  hope  to  raise 

Syrup  from  vinegar  to  sauce  your  food: 

The  Church  will  be  reformed  when  summer  days 

Come  without  gad-flies,  when  a  butcher's  store 

Has  neither  bones  nor  dogs  about  the  door. 

Sanga,  this  lewd  age  is  an  age  of  lead, 
Whence  Truth  is  banished  both  in  deed  and  word: 
You're  called  a  fool,  poor-spirited,  ill-bred, 
If  you  but  name  S.  Peter  and  our  Lord: 
Where'er  you  walk,  where'er  you  turn  your  head, 
Some  rascal  hypocrite,  with  scowl  abhorred, 
Snarls  twixt  his  teeth  "Freethinker !  Lutheran ! " — 
And  Lutheran  means,  you  know,  good  Christian. 

Those  grasping  priests  have  thrown  a  net  full  wide: 
With  bells  and  anthems,  altar-cloth  and  cope, 
They  lift  their  well-decked  shrines  on  every  side, 
Bent  upon  life  eternal — sorry  hope ! 
This  wooden  image  is  the  sailor's  pride, 
That  plastered  face  the  soldier's;  piss-pots  slope 
In  rows  to  Cosmo  and  S.  Damian; 
The  pox  belong  to  stout  Sebastian. 

Baron  S.  Anthony  hides  fire  in  heart, 
Thoughts  of  the  donkey  and  the  swine  in  head; 
Whence  comes  it  that  all  monks  in  every  part 
Stuff  paunch  and  wallet  with  flesh,  wine,  and  bread : 


APPENDIX  II. 

Yon  Abbot,  like  Silenus,  fills  a  cart; 

Yon  Cardinal's  a  Bacchus  overfed; 

The  Pope  through  Europe  sells,  a  second  Mars, 

Bulls  and  indulgences  to  feed  his  wars. 

The  Word  of  God,  aroused  from  its  long  trance, 
Runs  like  live  fire  abroad  through  Germany; 
The  work  continues,  as  the  days  advance, 
Unmasking  that  close-cloaked  iniquity, 
Which  with  a  false  and  fraudulent  countenance 
So  long  imposed  on  France,  Spain,  Italy: 
Now  by  the  grace  of  God  we've  learned  in  sooth 
What  mean  the  words  Church,  Charity,  Hope,  Truth. 

O  the  great  goodness  of  our  heavenly  Sire ! 
Behold,  his  Son  once  more  appears  on  high, 
Treads  under  foot  the  proud  rebellious  ire 
Of  faithless  Churchmen,  who  by  threat  and  lie 
Strove  to  conceal  the  Love  that  did  inspire 
The  mighty  Maker  of  earth,  sea,  and  sky, 
What  time  he  served,  and  bore  our  flesh,  and  trod 
With  blood  the  path  that  leads  man  back  to  God. 

None  speaks  in  this  lost  land  of  his  pure  blood, 
That  sinless  blood  of  Christ,  both  God  and  man, 
Which  quelled  the  serpent's  stiff  and  venomous  brood, 
The  powers  malign  that  reigned  where  Lethe  ran ! 
In  his  fair  bleeding  limbs  he  slew  the  lewd 
Old  Adam  from  whose  sin  our  woes  began, 
Appeased  his  Father's  wrath,  and  on  the  door 
Of  impious  Hell  set  bars  for  evermore. 

This  is  that  seed  thrice  holy  and  thrice  blest, 
Promised  to  our  first  parents,  which  doth  bring 
Unto  the  stairs  of  heaven  our  hope  oppressed ! 
This  is  that  puissant  and  victorious  king, 
Whose  foot  treads  man's  misjudgment  on  the  crest ! 
This  is  that  calm  clear  light,  whose  sunbeams  fling 
Shade  on  the  souls  and  darkness  o'er  the  eyes 
Of  fools  in  this  world's  knowledge  vainly  wise ! 


546  APPENDIX  II. 

O  Christians,  with  the  hearts  of  Hebrews !     Ye 
Who  make  a  mortal  man  your  chief  and  head, 
Of  these  new  Pharisees  first  Pharisee ! 
Your  soaring  and  immortal  pinions  spread 
For  that  starred  shrine,  where,  through  eternity, 
The  Lamb  of  God  is  Pope,  whose  heart  once  bled 
That  men,  blind  men,  from  yon  pure  font  on  high 
Might  seek  indulgence  full  and  free  for  aye  ! 

Yet  that  cooked  crayfish  hath  the  face  to  pray, 

Kneeling  in  chapel  opposite  that  crow, 

That  Antichrist,  upon  some  holy  day — 

"Thou  art  our  sail,  our  rudder  1 " — when  we  know 

The  simple  truth  requires  that  he  should  say 

' '  Thou  art  the  God  of  ruin  and  of  woe, 

Father  of  infinite  hypocrisies, 

Of  evil  customs  and  all  heresies ! " — 

O  Sanga,  for  our  lord  Verona's  sake, 

Put  by  your  Virgil,  lay  Lucretius  down, 

Ovid,  and  him  in  whom  such  joy  you  take, 

Tully,  of  Latin  eloquence  the  crown  ! 

With  arms  out-spread,  our  heart's  arms,  let  us  make 

To  Him  petition,  who,  without  our  own 

Merit  or  diligence  or  works,  can  place 

Our  souls  in  heaven,  made  worthy  by  his  grace ! 

And  prithee  see  that  Molza  is  aware, 

And  Navagero,  and  Flaminio  too, 

That  here  far  other  things  should  be  our  care 

Than  Janus,  Flora,  Thetis,  and  the  crew 

Of  Homer's  gods,  who  paint  their  page  so  fair ! 

Here  we  experience  the  false  and  true; 

Here  find  that  Sun,  which  shows,  without,  within, 

That  man  by  nature  is«;ompact  of  sin. 

O  good  Fregoso,  who  hast  shut  thine  ear 
To  all  those  siren  songs  of  Poesy, 
Abiding  by  the  mirror  keen  and  clear, 
In  joyance  of  divine  Philosophy, 


APPENDIX  II. 

Both  Testaments,  Old,  New,  to  thee  are  dear  1 
Thou  hast  outworn  that  ancient  fantasy 
Which  led  thee  once  with  Fondulo  to  call 
Plato  the  link  twixt  Peter  and  S.  Paul ! — 

But  now  Gradasso  calls  me;  I  am  bid 
Back  to  the  follies  of  my  Paladins — 
etc.,  etc. 


547 


APPENDIX    III. 
On  Palmier?  s  ' '  Citta  di  Vita"    ( To  illustrate  Part  I.  p.  171.) 

Ix  the  first  part  of  this  sketch  of  Italian  literary  history  (Re- 
naissance in  Italy,  vol.  iv.  p.  171,  note  2)  I  promised,  if  possi- 
ble, to  give  some  further  notice  of  Palmieri's  poem  entitled 
the  Citta  di  Vita.  This  promise  I  was  unable  to  fulfill  in  the 
proper  place.  But  while  my  book  was  going  through  the 
press,  I  obtained  the  necessary  materials  for  such  a  study  of 
Palmieri's  work  through  the  courtesy  of  a  Florentine  scholar, 
Signor  A.  Gherardi,  who  sent  me  extracts  from  a  MS.  exist- 
ing in  the  Laurentian  Library.  This  MS.,  which  is  an  illumi- 
nated parchment  codex,  contains,  besides  the  poem,  the  com- 
mentary of  Lionardo  Dati,  with  his  Life  of  the  author  and  two 
of  his  letters  addressed  to  Palmieri.  Whether  or  not  the  co- 
dex is  an  autograph,  remains  uncertain.  But  it  has  this  sin- 
gular interest,  that  Matteo  Palmieri  himself  presented  it  to 
the  Art  of  the  Notaries  in  Florence,  sealed  and  under  the 
express  condition  that  it  should  not  be  opened  so  long  as 
he  lived  imprisoned  in  his  body — "  ut  non  aperiatur  dum  in 
suo  religatus  corpusculo  vivat."  After  his  death,  the  Re- 
public decreed  a  public  funeral  to  their  honored  magistrate 
and  servant;  and  the  MS.  in  question  was  placed  upon  his 
breast  in  the  church  of  S.  Pier  Maggiore,  where  he  was  interred 
in  the  family  chapel  of  the  Palmieri.  Alamanno  Rinuccini 
pronounced  the  panegyrical  oration  on  this  occasion;  and  in 
his  speech  he  .alluded  to  "this  bulky  volume  which  lies  upon 
his  breast,  a  poem  in  terza  rima,  called  by  him  the  City  of 
Life." 

It  would  appear,  from  the  circumstance  of  the  volume 
having  been  presented  under  seal  to  the  Art  of  the  Notaries, 
that  Palmieri,  while  wishing  to  secure  the  safety  of  his  poem, 


APPENDIX  III.  549 

was  aware  of  its  liability  to  censure.  What  he  may  have 
dreaded,  happened  after  his  decease;  for  his  opinions  were 
condemned  as  heretical,  and  the  picture  Botticelli  painted 
for  him  in  illustration  of  his  views,  was  removed  from  its 
place  in  the  Palmieri  Chapel  of  S.  Pier  Maggiore.  This  pic- 
ture is  now  in  the  possession  of  the  Duke  of  Hamilton. 

The  MS.  of  the  Citta  di  Vita  passed  from  the  Art  of  the 
Notaries  into  the  Laurentian  Library.  Since  the  biographi- 
cal notices  from  the  pen  of  Palmieri's  friend,  Lionardo  Dati, 
which  this  MS.  contains,  form  our  most  trustworthy  source 
of  information  about  the  poet's  life,  it  may  be  well  to  preface 
the  account  of  his  poem  with  an  abstract  of  their  contents. 
Matteo  Palmieri  was  a  member  of  an  honorable  Florentine 
family.  Born  in  1405,  he  received  his  first  education  in 
grammar  from  Sozomeno  of  Pistoja.  Afterwards  he  studied 
Greek  and  Latin  letters  in  the  schools  of  Carlo  Aretino  and 
Ambrogio  Traversari.  In  early  manhood  he  entered  public 
life,  and  passed  through  the  various  Florentine  magistracies 
to  the  dignity  of  Gonfalonier  of  Justice.  The  Signory  em- 
ployed him  upon  embassies  to  Calixtus  III.,  Frederick  III., 
Alfonso  the  Magnanimous  and  Paul  II.  Matteo  devoted  his 
leisure  to  study  and  composition.  The  treatise  Delia  Vita 
Civile,  which  he  wrote  in  Italian,  was  a  work  of  his  adoles- 
cence. Then  followed,  in  Latin,  a  Life  of  Niccol6  Acciaiolo, 
a  narrative  of  the  successful  war  with  Pisa,  and  a  Universal 
History,  which  was  subsequently  continued  by  Mattia  Pal- 
mieri— a  Pisan,  who,  though  he  bore  the  same  name,  was  in 
no  wise  related  to  our  author.  The  Citta  di  Vita  was  a  work 
of  his  mature  age.  He  died  probably  in  1478. 

Matteo  told  Lionardo  Dati  that  on  the  first  of  August, 
1451,  while  he  was  living  at  Pescia  as  Governor  of  the  Val  di 
Nievole,  he  dreamed  that  his  dead  friend  Cipriano  Rucellai 
appeared  to  him,  and  invited  him  to  the  yearly  festival  which 
was  celebrated  on  that  day  in  a  monastery,  called  II  Para- 
diso,  near  Florence.  In  his  dream,  Matteo  accompanied  the 
ghost  of  Cipriano,  conversing  on  the  way  about  the  state 
of  spirits  after  death — where  they  dwell,  and  how  they  are 


550  APPENDIX  III. 

permitted  to  revisit  their  living  friends.  Cipriano,  moreover, 
revealed  to  him  weighty  matters  concerning  the  nature  of 
the  human  soul.  He  told  him  how  God  first  made  angels 
in  innumerable  hosts.  These  angels  separated  into  three 
companies.  The  one  band  followed  Lucifer,  when  he  re- 
belled. The  second  held  with  Michael  and  abode  firm  in 
their  allegiance.  The  third  decided  neither  for  God  nor  for 
the  Devil.  After  Lucifer's  defeat,  these  angels  of  the  third 
class  were  relegated  to  the  Elysian  fields,  which  extend  at 
all  points  over  the  extreme  periphery  of  the  highest  sphere; 
and  God,  wishing  to  give  them  a  final  chance  of  determining 
for  good  or  evil,  ordained  that  they  should,  one  by  one,  be 
sent  to  dwell  in  human  bodies.  There,  attended  by  a  good 
and  a  bad  spirit,  they  have  the  choice  of  lives,  and  after 
their  death  in  the  body,  are  drafted  into  the  trains  of  Lucifer 
or  Michael  according  to  their  conduct.  Having  communi- 
cated this  doctrine,  Cipriano  vanished  from  his  friend's  sight 
with  these  words  upon  his  lips: 

Misero  ad  noi  quanto  mal  segno 

Rizoron  quelli  che  si  fer  ribelli 

Per  porre  in  aquilon  loco  piti  degno. 

Palmieri  forgot  or  neglected  the  import  of  his  dream  until 
the  year  1455,  when  he  was  at  Alfonso's  Court  in  Naples. 
There  Cipriano  appeared  to  him  again,  rebuked  him  for  his 
carelessness,  and  bade  him  write  a  poem  in  terza  rtma,  after 
Dante's  method,  on  the  subject  of  their  former  discourse. 
He  also  recommended  him  three  books,  which  would  assist 
him  in  the  labor.  When  Palmieri  returned  to  Florence,  he 
obtained  these  helps  and  set  about  the  composition  of  his 
poem.  It  must  have  been  completed  in  1464;  for  in  this  year 
Dati  received  a  copy,  which  he  styled  opus  pane  divinum, 
and  began  to  annotate.  In  1466  Dati  wrote  again  to  Pal- 
mieri, thanking  him  for  an  emended  copy  of  the  work,  which 
the  author  had  sent  him  from  Florence  to  Rome.  Palmieri's 
own  letter  accompanying  the  gift,  refers  to  the  poem  as  al- 
ready published.  This  proves  (as  would,  indeed,  appear  from 
the  title  given  him  by  Ficino  of  Poeta  Theologicus]  that, 


APPENDIX  III. 


55' 


whatever  may  have  been  his  dread  of  a  prosecution  for  h'er- 
esy,  he  had  at  least  divulged  the  Citta  di  Vita  to  the  learned. 

The  poem  consists  of  three  books,  divided,  like  Dante's 
Commedia,  into  one  hundred  Cantos;  but  the  extra  Canto 
has  by  Palmieri  been  assigned  to  the  last  instead  of  the  first 
Cantica.  The  title  Citta  di  Vita  was  given  to  it,  because 
Palmieri  designed  to  bring  the  universe  into  consideration 
under  the  aspect  of  spiritual  existence.  The  universe,  as  he 
conceived  it,  is  the  burgh  in  which  all  souls  live.  His  object 
was  to  show  how  free-will  is  innate  in  men,  who  have  the 
choice  of  good  and  evil,  of  salvation  or  perdition,  in  this  life. 
The  origin  of  evil  he  relegates  to  that  prehistoric  moment 
of  Lucifer's  revolt,  when  the  third  class  of  angels  refused  to 
side  with  either  God  or  Devil.  In  the  first  book,  then,  he 
describes  how  these  angels  are  transmitted  from  the  Elysian 
fields  to  earth,  in  order  that  they  may  become  men,  and  in 
their  mortal  body  be  forced  to  exercise  their  faculty  of  elec- 
tion. In  the  second  book  he  treats  of  the  way  of  perdition. 
In  the  third  book  he  deals  with  the  way  of  salvation. 
Following  Dante's  precedent  in  the  choice  of  Virgil,  he 
takes  the  Sibyl  for  his  guide  upon  the  beginning  of  this 
visionary  journey. 

The  heretical  portions  of  the  Citta  di  Vita  are  Cantos  v. 
ix.  x.  xi.  of  the  first  Cantica.  These  deal  with  the  original 
creation  of  angelic  essences,  and  with  the  transit  of  the  in- 
determinate angels  to  our  earth.  Regarding  the  universe 
from  the  Ptolemaic  point  of  view,  Palmieri  conceives  that 
these  angels,  who  inhabit  the  Elysian  fields  beyond  the  ut- 
most verge  of  the  stellar  spheres,  proceed  on  their  earthward 
journey  through  the  several  planets,  till  they  reach  our  globe, 
which  is  the  center  of  the  whole.  On  their  way,  they  grad- 
ually submit  to  animal  impressions  and  prepare  themselves 
for  incarnation,  according  to  that  conception  which  made  the 
human  soul  itself  in  a  certain  sense  corporeal.  It  is  here  that 
Palmieri  adjusts  the  theory  of  planetary  influences  to  his 
theory  of  free-will.  For  he  supposes  that  the  angels  assimi- 
late the  qualities  of  the  planetary  spheres  as  they  pass 


552  APPENDIX  III. 

through  them,  being  attracted  by  curiosity  to  one  planet 
rather  than  another.  At  the  same  time  they  undergo  the 
action  of  the  three  superior  elements,  which  fits  them  for 
their  final  reception  into  an  earthly  habitation.  After  this 
wise  he  ingeniously  combined  his  theories  of  the  Creation, 
the  Fall,  and  Free-will,  with  Averroistic  doctrines  of  inter- 
mediate intelligences  and  speculations  collected  from  Pla- 
tonistic  writings. 

The  path  of  the  descending  angels  is,  to  quote  the  words 
of  Dati,  "in  a  straight  line  beneath  the  first  point  of  Cancer 
to  the  cave  of  earth,  in  which  line  there  are  ten  gates,  for 
each  of  the  planets  to  wit,  and  for  the  three  super-terrestrial 
elements  each  his  gate.  The  whole  of  this  vast  body  of  the 
universe  is  by  our  poet  called  the  City  of  Life,  forasmuch  as 
in  this  universe  all  creatures  live.  And  this  journey  of  the 
souls  from  Elysium  to  their  bodies  is  performed  in  one  year." 
It  will  be  observed  that  Palmieri  affected  the  precision  of  his 
master  Dante.  Having  thus  conducted  the  soul  to  earth,  he 
is  no  less  definite  in  his  description  of  the  two  ways,  which 
severally  lead  to  damnation  and  salvation.  In  the  second 
Cantica,  he  employs  the  space  of  a  whole  year  compressed 
into  one  night,  in  passing  through  the  eighteen  mansions  of 
the  passions  of  the  flesh,  fortune  and  the  mind.  For  this 
journey  he  has  the  guidance  of  an  evil  spirit.  Afterwards,  in 
the  third  Cantica,  he  employs  the  same  space  of  one  year 
compressed  into  a  single  day,  in  traversing  the  twelve  man- 
sions of  civil  virtue  and  purgation,  through  which  the  soul 
arrives  at  beatific  life.  In  this  voyage  he  is  guided  by  a 
good  angel.  It  is  not  necessary  to  enter  further  into  the 
calculations  whereby  Palmieri  adjusts  the  chronology  and 
cosmography  of  his  vision  to  the  Ptolemaic  theory  of  the 
universe. 

Though  the  material  of  the  poem  is  thus  curious,  and 
the  structure  thus  ingenious**  it  does  not  rise  in  style  above 
the  level  of  the  works  of  Frezzi  and  Uberti  (see  above, 
vol.  iv.  chap.  3).  In  order  to  give  the  reader  a  specimen 
of  its  composition,  I  will  extract  a  passage  from  Cantica  I. 


APPENDIX  III. 


553 


Canto  v.,  which  concerns  the  Divine  Being  and  the  Crea- 
tion of  Angels : 

Sopra  ogn'  altro  potere  e  questo  tale, 

che  come  e'  ruole  in  tutto  pub  giovare, 

sanza  potenza  di  voler  far  male. 
Tal  carita.  volendo  ad  altri  dare 

la  gloria  in  s6,  (?)  di  se  stesso  godeva, 

degnb  co"  cieli  ancor  la  terra  fare. 
Et  perche  cosa  far  non  si  poteva 

che  eterno  bene  in  ciel  sempre  godesse, 

se  sempre  quel  goder  non  intendeva; 
Intelligenza  bisognb  facesse 

con  lume  di  ragione  et  immortale, 

ad  chi  1*  eterno  ben  tutto  si  desse. 
Creatura  fe  per  questo  rationale, 

1'  angelo  et  1'  huomo  accib  che  '1  sommo  bene 

godessono  intendendo  quel  che  e'  vale. 
Da  'ntenderlo  et  amar  di  ragion  vene 

volerlo  possedere,  et  con  letitia 

per  sempre  usar  sanza  timer  di  pene. 
Ad  questo  Idio  creb  la  gran  militia 

del  celestiale  exercitio  et  felice, 

che  'n  parte  cadde  per  la  sua  malitia. 


INDEX. 


In  the  following  Index  the  volume  on  the  'Age  of  the  Despots'  is  referred  to  as  Vol.  /.,  that 
on  the  'Revival  of  Learning1  as  Vol.  It.,  that  on  the  ''Fine  Arts'  as  Vol.  III.,  and  the 
ttvo  Volumes  on  'Italian  Literature '  as  Vols.  IV.  and  V. 


ABBAS    SICULUS,    received    800 
scudi  yearly  as  Jurist  at  Bologna, 

ii.  122 
Abbreviators,    college    of,    founded   by 

Pius  II.,  ii.  358 

Abelard,  teaching  of,  i.  9,  v.  467 
Academies,  the  Italian,  ii.    161,    311  ; 

lose   their   classical    character,    365 ; 

their  degeneracy,  367,  542,  v.  272  ; 

Milton's  commendation  of  them,  ii. 

367  ;  their  effect  on  Italian  poetry,  v. 

272 
Academy,  the  Aldine,  at  Venice,  ii.  385, 

v.  272 
Accaiuolo,  Ruberto,  i.  197  note  i,  203 

note  2 
Accaiuolo,  Zenobio,  made  librarian  of 

the  Vatican,  ii.  425 
Accarigi,  his  Dictionary  to  Boccaccio, 

v.  254  note  i 
Accolti,  Francesco  di  Michele,  his  terza 

rima  version  of  the  Principe  di  Sa- 

lerno^  iv.  250  note  2 
Accoramboni,  Vittoria,  Bandello's  No- 
vella upon  her  trial,  v.  54  ;  use  made 

of  it  by  Webster,  69,  117,  288;  her 

poetry,  v.  288 
Achates,  Leonard,  his  edition  of  Las- 

cari's  grammar.'  ii.  376 
Achillmi,    Professor   of   Philosophy  at 

Padua,  v.  458,  459 
Adami,  Tobia,  the  disciple  of  Campa- 

nella.  v.  481 
Admonition,  the  Law  of,  at  Florence, 

i.  226 


Adolph  of  Nassau,  pillages  Maintz,  ii. 
368 

Adorni,  the,  at  Genoa,  i.  201 

Adrian  VI.,  the  tutor  of  Charles  V.,  iv. 
398;  elected  by  political  intrigues,  i. 
441 ;  his  simplicity  of  life  and  efforts 
at  reform,  441-443  (cp.  ii.  434,  442); 
Berni's  Satire  on  him.  i.  443,  v.  368 

Agnolo,  Baccio  d',  architect  of  the  Cam- 
panile of  S.  Spirito  at  Florence,  iii.  86 

Agolanti  of  Padua,  i.  114 

Agostino,  Pre,  his  Lamenti,  iv.  172 
note  2 

Agrippa,  his  De  Vanitate  Scientiarum 
quoted  for  the  corruptions  of  Rome, 
i.  459  note  I 

Alamanni,  Antonio,  writer  of  the  '  Tri- 
umph of  Death,'  iv.  320,  393-395 ; 
translated,  395 

Alamanni,  Jacopino,  story  of,  i.  2ir 

Alamanni,  Luigi,  his  translation  of  the 
Antigone,  v.  134,  240;  his  didactic 
poem,  La  Coltivazione,  237 ;  transla- 
tion (in  prose)  of  a  passage  on  the 
woes  of  Italy;  story  of  his  life,  239; 
number  and  variety  of  his  works,  240 ; 
his  dramatic  poem,  the  Flora  ;  trans- 
lation (in  prose)  of  a  passage  on 
Rome,  note  I ;  said  to  have  been  a 
great  improvisatore,  240  ;  his  satires, 
381 ;  composed  in  the  metre  of  the 
Divine  Comedy,  iv.  172 

Alamanni,  Luigi  di  Tommaso,  executed 
for  his  share  in  the  conspiracy  against 
Cardinal  Gmlio  de'  Medici,  v.  239 


556 


INDEX. 


Albano,  Francesco,  v.  229 

Albergati,  Niccolo  degli,  his  patronage 
of  Tommaso  Parentucelli  (Nicholas 
V.),  ii.  223 

Alberti,  the,  at  Florence,  exiled  by  the 
Albizzi,  iv.  184,  188;  their  family 
history,  190  note  I 

Alberti,  Leo  Battista,  his  originality,  ii. 
5  ;  his  many-sided  genius,  10,  341- 
344,  iv.  183,  214-219;  one  of  the 
circle  gathered  around  Lorenzo  de' 
Medici,  ii.  322 ;  iii.  263 ;  his  cosmo- 
politan spirit,  iv.  184  ;  recommends 
the  study  of  Italian,  iv.  185,  v.  508  ; 
his  feelings  for  the  greatness  of  ancient 
Rome,  iv.  186;  character  of  his  reli- 
gious sentiment,  206,  216,  217;  ten- 
derness of  his  character,  218,  v.  196, 
511  ;  arranges  a  poetical  competition 
in  Italian  at  Florence,  iv.  238  ;  archi- 
tect of  S.  Francesco  at  Rimini,  i.  172, 
326.  ii.  34,  210,  342,  iii.  70  note  I, 
74 ;  of  S.  Andrea  at  Mantua,  ii.  342, 
iii.  70  note  i,  75,  278  ;  of  the  Rucel- 
lai  Palace  at  Florence,  ii.  342,  iii. 
75  ;  other  architectural  works  of  Al- 
berti, ii.  342,  440,  iii.  74-76  ;  his  ad- 
miration of  Brunelleschi's  dome  at 
Florence,  iii.  67  note  i,  iv.  209  (cp. 
ib.  204),  216;  influence  of  Boccaccio 
on  his  writings,  iv.  136;  character  of 
his  style,  187  ;  his  narrative  of  Por- 
cari's  attempt  on  Nicholas  V.,  i.  265 
note  i,  386 ;  his  description  of  Nicho- 
las.' administration,  i.  377 ;  his  Latin 
play  Philodoxius,  ii.  341,  452,  iv. 
183,  v.  110;  his  Trattato  della  Fa- 
tiiiglia,  ii.  37,  iv.  188,  v.  190,  518; 
its  value,  iv.  188,  190,  v.  455  ;  ana- 
lyzed, iv.  191  ;  question  whether  Al- 
berti was  the  original  author  of  the 
treatise  Del  Governo  della  Famiglia, 
i.  239  note  i,  272,  iv.  192-203 ;  the 
Dialogues,  v.  451,  455  ;  the  Deiciar- 
c/tia,  iv.  203 ;  the  Tranqnillitb  delP 
Animo,  204  ;  the  Teogenio,  205  ;  the 
Essays  on  the  Arts,  207-209;  the 
Dedication  to  Brunelleschi,  208  ;  the 
4  Treatise  on  Building  '  cited  for  the* 
influence  of  Vitruvius  on  Italian  ar- 
chitects, iii.  94  note  i ;  the  '  Treatise 
on  Painting,'  127  note  i,  the  various 
discourses  upon  Love  and  Matrimony, 


Alberti,  Leo  Battista  (Continued^. 
iv.  209-211 ;  Alberti  the  reputed  au- 
thor of  '  Ippolito  and  Leonora,'  212, 
250;  his  Poems,  213 

Alberti,  Leo  Battista,  the  anonymous 
Memoir  of  Alberti,  ii.  37,  184  note  i, 
195  note  i,  216  note  i,  218 

Albertini,  Francesco,  aids  Mnzochi  in 
collecting  the  Roman  Inscriptions,  ii. 
429 

Albertinelli,  Mariotto,  his  friendship 
with  Fra  Bartolommeo,  iii.  304,  310 

Alberto  da  Sarteano,  Fra,  denounces 
Beccadelli's  '  Hermaphroditus,'  ii.  256 
note  i 

Albertus  Magnus,  v.  467 

Albicante,  Giovanni  Alberto,  probability 
that  he  was  Aretino's  agent  in  muti- 
lating Berni's  rifacimento  of  the  Or- 
lando Jnnamorato,  v.  375-380,419; 
his  relations  to  Aretino,  419 

Albigenses,  the,  i.  9 

Allnzzi,  the,  rule  of,  at  Florence,  i.  221, 
iv.  2 ;  their  contest  with  the  Medici, 
i.  227  note  3,  ii.  167,  170,  iv.  176, 
184,  252 ;  their  exile  of  the  Alberti, 
iv.  184,  189 

Albizzi,  Rinaldo  degli,  his  patronage  of 
learning,  ii.  165,  223 

Alciato,  ii.  84 

Aldus  Manutius.     [See  Manuzio  Aldo  ] 

Aleander,  his  lectures  in  Hebrew  at 
Paris,  i.  27,  ii.  424  ;  a  member  of  the 
Aldine  Academy,  ii.  387  ;  made  Car- 
dinal, 402,  424 ;  sent  to  Germany  as 
Nuncio,  424 

Aleotti,  Galeotti,  architect  of  the  Tea- 
tro  Farnese  at  Parma,  v.  144 

Alessi,  Galeazzo,his  work  at  Genoa,  iii. 
96  ;  his  church  of  S.  Mark  di  Carig- 
nano  there,  96 

Alexander  of  Aphrodisias,  his  view  of 
Aristotle's  doctrine  of  the  soul,  v. 
472 ;  adopted  by  Pomponazzi,  459, 
472 

Alexander,  a  Cretan,  joint  editor  of  a 
Greek  Psalter,  ii.  376 

Alexander  III.,  i.  64 
.Alexander    IV.,    preaches     a    crusade 
against  Ezzelino,  i,  107  note  i,  iv.  280 

Alexander  VI.  Guiccardini's  character 
of  him,  i.  308  ;  invites  the  French 
into  Italy,  349,  427,  515;  Machia- 


INDEX. 


557 


Alexander  VI.  (Continued}. 

velli  makes  him  his  example  of  suc- 
cessful hypocrisy,  357 ;  his  additions 
to  the  Vatican,  389  note  i ;  personal 
descriptions  of  him  at  his  accession,. 
407  ;  the  popular  legend  of  him,  408 ; 
his  policy,  410,  427  ;  his  avarice,  413  ; 
his  relations  with  the  Sultan  and  mur- 
der of  Prince  Ujem,  415,  566  note  I ; 
his  attitude  towards  orthodoxy,  416  ; 
his  establishment  of  the  censorship, 
416,  ii.  359,  371 ;  his  sensuality,  417- 
419;  his  exaggerated  love  of  his  chil- 
dren, 417  ;  his  grief  at  the  murder  of 
the  Duke  of  Gandia,  425 ;  his  death 
— was  it  by  poison  ?  429-431  ;  the 
legend  that  he  had  sold  his  soul  to 
the  devil,  431  ;  his  attempt  to  gain 
over  or  silence  Savonarola,  529 ; 
comes  to  terms  with  Charles  and 
saves  himself  from  a  General  Council. 
427,  532  note  i,  565 ;  joins  the 
League  of  Venice  against  Charles 
VIII.,  577 ;  the  Mencechmi  repre- 
sented by  his  orders  at  the  Vatican  at 
the  espousal  of  Lucrezia  Borgia,  v. 

139 

Alexius,  Marcus  Attilius,  his  character 
of  Paul  II.,  i.  385  note  I 

Alfonso  (the  Magnanimous),  conquers 
Naples,  i.  88,  568 ;  Vespasiano's  Life 
of  him,  480  note  I,  569  note  I,  ii. 
352  ;  wins  over  the  Duke  of  Milan, 
568  note  i ;  his  nobility  of  character 
and  love  of  learning,  569,  ii.  38,  252, 
265  ;  his  family  life,  569 ;  story  of  his 
patient  listening  to  a  speech  of  Ma- 
netti,  ii.  191  note  I,  254;  his  patron- 
age of  Manetti,  192 

Alfonso  II.,  King  of  Naples,  i.  543, 
550 ;  his  avarice,  105  ;  his  league 
against  Charles  VIII.,  550;  character 
of  him  by  Comines,  572  ;  his  terrors 
of  conscience  and  abdication,  119, 
572 

Alfonso,  Prince  of  Biseglia,  husband  of 
Lucrezia  Borgia,  murder  of,  i.  420 

Alidosi,  the,  of  Imola,  i.  375 

Alidosi,  Cardinal,  his  patronage  of  schol- 
ars, ii.  404 

Alighieri.  Jacopo,  his  commentary  upon 
the  Divine  Comedy,  iv.  163;  his 
Doltrinalc,  240 


Alione,  Giovan  Giorgio,  his  Maccaronic 
Satire  on  the  Lombards,  v.  333 

Allegre,  Monseigneur  d',  captures  the 
mistresses  of  Alexander  III.,  i.  418 

Allegretti,  Allegretto,  cited  i.  165  note 
i  ;  on  the  reconciliation  of  fact  ions  at 
Siena,  616,  iii.  213 

Alopa,  Lorenzo,  printer  of  the  first  edi- 
tion of  Homer,  ii.  369,  376 

Alticlinio  of  Padua,  i.  114 

Amadeo,  Antonio,  iii.  78  note  \  •  dis- 
pute about  his  name,  164;  his  work 
at  the  Certosa  of  Pavia,  164;  his 
monument  to  Media  Colleoni,  165 

Amalteo,  ii.  506 ;  his  Latin   Eclogues, 

453.  497 

Ambra,  his  Comedies,  v.  123,  181 
Ambrogio  da  Milano,  his  reliefs  in  the 

ducal  palace,  Urbino,  iii.  162  note  i 
America,  discovery  of,   i.  3,  15,  29,  ii. 

112;    given    by    Alexander   VI.    to 

Spain,  i.  413 
Amerigo  di  Peguilhan,  his  Lament  on 

the  death  of  Manfred,  iv.  27 
Amiclei,  the,   at   Florence,  i.   74,  210, 

note  2 
Ammanati,  Bartolommeo,  his  work  as 

sculptor  and  architect    in   Florence, 

iii.  96  ;  feebleness  of  his  statues,  173; 

his  regret  that  he  had  made  so  many 

statues  of   heathen  gods,    174;    his 

quarrels  with  Cellini,  477 
Ammirato,    Scipione,    quoted    for  the 

friendly  rivalry  of  Giangiorgo  Trissino 

and  Giovanni  Rucellai,  v.  236 
Amurath  II.,  Filelfo's  mission  to  him, 

ii.  268 
Andrea  dell'  Anguillara,  Giovanni,  Lis 

tragedy  of  Edippo,  v.  134;  acted  in 

the  Palazzo  della   Ragione,  134 ;  his 

satiric  poems,  381 
Andrea  dell'  Aquila,   probable  sculptor 

of  a   monument  in   S.    Bernardino, 

Aquila,  iii.  141  note  \ 
Andrea  da  Barbarino,  probably  the  au- 
thor of  the  Reali  di  Francia,  iv.  246; 

other  romances  of  his,  246 
Andrea   of    Florence,    said   to   be   the 

painter  of  frescoes  in  S.   Maria    No- 
vella, iii.  205  note  i 
Andrea  de  Pontadero  (called  Pisano), 

his   work  in  bronze  and  marble,  iii. 

119 


553 


INDEX. 


Andrea  di  Sicilia,  elected  Professor  at 
Parma,  iv.  315 

Angelico,  Fra,  spirituality  of  his  paint- 
ings, iii.  239;  his  intense  religious 
feeling,  303,  311;  critical  difficulty 
of  deciding  his  place  in  the  succession 
of  Florentine  painters,  240  ;  his  fres- 
coes at  Orvieto,  283  note  I 

Angioleri,  Cecco,  his  Sonnets,  iv.  36 
note  I 

Anguillara,  i.  114,  404,  545 

Annales  Bononienses,  quoted  for  the 
Revival  of  1457,  i.  617 

Annius  of  Viterbo,  his  forged  Histories, 
ii.  156  note  2 

Antiquari,  Jacopo,  his  Latin  correspond- 
ence, ii.  288  note  i,  532;  quotation 
from  a  letter  of  his  upon  Poliziano's 
Miscellanies,  352;  his  verses  on  Aldo 
Manuzio,  390  note  2  ;  his  nobility  of 
character,  523 

Antonino,  Sant',  the  good  archbishop 
of  Florence,  i.  470  note  I,  iv.  313, 

v-  5»9 

Antonio  da  Tempo,  his  Treatise  on 
Italian  Poetry  cited  for  the  early  es- 
timation of  Tuscan,  iv.  31  note  I 

Antonio  di  San  Marco  (the  Roman 
goldsmith),  his  answer  to  Agostino 
Chigi's  couplet  on  Leo  X.,  i.  435 

Anziani  or  Ancients,  name  of  magis- 
trates in  some  Italian  cities,  i.  35, 
68,  224 

Apollo  Belvedere,  discovery  of  the,  ii. 
431 ;  description  of  it  by  a  Venetian 
envoy,  434 

Apostolios  Aristoboulos,  a  compositor 
employed  by  Aldo  Manuzio,  ii.  378 ; 
a  member  of  the  Aldine  Academy,  387 

Appiano,  Gherardo,  sells  Pisa  to  Gian 
Galeazzo,  i.  114,  148 

Appiano,  Jacopo,  murders  Pietro  Gam- 
bacorta,  i.  148,  148  note  \ 

Aquila,  S.  Bernardo,  monument  of  the 
Countess  Montorio,  iii.  141  note  I 

Arabs,  the,  their  preservation  of  Greek 
literature,  ii.  66,  68,  251,  iii.  209,  v. 
468 

Arcadia,  creation  of  the  Arcadian  ideal 
at  the  Renaissance,  v.  197  ;  length  of 
time  during  which  it  prevailed,  197, 
223 ;  received  form  at  the  hands  of 
Sannazzaro,  197;  lent  itself  to  the 


Arcadia  (Continued). 

dramatical  presentation  of  real  pas- 
sion, in  spite  of  its  artificial  form, 
241.  (See  Guarini,  Sannazzaro,  and 
Tasso.) 

Archio,  Latin  verse  writer,  ii.  507 

Architecture,  Italian  architecture  rather 
local  than  national,  ii.  5  ;  architecture 
does  not  require  so  much  individual- 
ity in  the  artist  as  painting,  7  ;  effect 
on  Italian  architecture  of  the  ancient 
Roman  buildings,  439,  iii.  48  note  I  ; 
reasons  why  the  middle  ages  excelled 
in  architecture,  iii.  10 ;  architecture 
precedes  the  other  arts,  40  ;  the  vari- 
ous building  materials  used  in  Italian 
architecture,  44 

Arcimboldi,  Gian  Angelo,  discovered 
the  MS.  of  Tacitus'  Annals  at  Cor- 
vey,  ii.  140,  425 

Ardenti,  the,  an  Academy  at  Naples,  ii. 
366 

Aretino,  Carlo.     (See  Marsuppini.) 

Aretino,  Pietro,  parallel  between  Are- 
tino, Machiavelli,  and  Cellini,  iii.  479 
(cp.  v.  384)  ;  said  to  have  died  from 
excessive  laughter,  iv.  452  ;  the  story 
probably  without  foundation,  v.  423 ; 
his  quarrel  with  Doni,  90,  419,  422  ; 
his  writings  placed  on  the  Index  after 
his  death,  422,  423 ;  the  Comedies, 
40,  123  ;  their  originality  and  free- 
dom from  imitation  of  the  antique, 
172,  173  (cp.  269  note  i),  517;  defec- 
tive in  structure,  173;  point  of  view 
from  which  Aretino  regards  contem- 
porary manners  in  them,  174;  celer- 
ity of  their  composition,  414;  the 
Cortigiana,  its  plot  and  characters, 
176;  intended  to  expose  the  Courts, 
176,  177,  178;  (cp.  386  note  i  ;)  sar- 
casms of  the  Prologue  on  the  Italian 
authors,  180,  note  i;  its  testimony  to 
the  profligacy  of  Rome,  and  to  the 
belief  that  the  sack  of  the  city  was  a 
Divine  chastisement,  i.  446  note  i,  v. 
176,  190,  226  ;  to  the  general  corrup- 

'•  tion  of  morals  in  Italy,  v.  191 ;  the 
Marescako,  its  plot,  178  ;  may  have 
supplied  hints  to  Shakspere  and  Ben 
Jonson,  178,  the  Talanta,  Ipocrita, 
and  Filosofo,  179  ;  comparison  of  the 
comedies  of  Aretino,  Btbbiena,  and 


INDEX. 


559 


Aretino,  Pietro  (Continued). 

Machiavelli,  180;  passage  in  the  Pro- 
logue to  the  Ipocrita,  relerring  to  Ber- 
ni's rijacimento  of  the  Orlando  Inna- 
morato,  376  note  2  ;  Prologue  of  the 
Talanta  translated  (in  prose), 41 7-419; 
his  Madrigals  and  Sonnets,  311 ;  their 
badness,  415  ;  his  Capitoli,  364,  381, 
419 ;  inferior   to   Berni's,    415 ;    the 
Dialoghi,  386,  394,  note  i,  415 ;  their 
description  of  life  in  Roman  palaces, 
386  note  I  ;  belief  of  contemporary 
society  in  the  good  intentions  of  Are- 
tino in  writing  the  work,  427 ;  prob- 
ability that  Aretino  was  the  author  of 
the  mutilation  of  Berni's  rifacimento 
of  the  Orlando  Innamorato,  375-380, 
406 ;  he  sides  with  Bembo  in  his  dis- 
pute with  Broccardo,  377 ;  his  place 
in  Italian   literature,    383-385 ;    his 
boyhood,  385 ;  enters  Agostino  Chi- 
gi's  service,  386  ;  nature  of  his  posi- 
tion, 386;  stories  of  his  early  life,  387; 
begins  to  find   his  way  into  Courts, 
388  ;  comes  to  Rome  at  the  election 
of  Clement  VII.,  389;  writes  a  series 
of  sonnets  on  obscene  designs  by  Giu- 
lio  Romano,   and  is  obliged  to  quit 
Rome,  389 ;  makes  the  friendship  of 
Giovanni  de  Medici  delle  Bande  Nere, 
390,  391,  424 ;  narrowly  escapes  as- 
sassination at    Rome,   391;   his  ani- 
mosity against   Clement    VII.,   391, 
392,  402  note  i ;  retires  to  Venice  in 
order  to  support  himself  by  literary 
labour,   392-395 ;    dread  inspired  by 
his  talents,  ii.    34,   512,   iii.   171,  v. 
392  ;  trades  upon  the  new  power  given 
by  the  press,  v.  393  ;  secures  his  repu- 
tation by  writing  religious  romances, 
394,    519,    their  worthlessness,  416, 
427 ;  may  have  been  aided  in  them 
by  Niccolo  Franco,   420 ;  his  life  at 
Venice,  396-399 ;  amount  of  money 
extorted  by  him,  399  ;  presents  made 
him   by  various    princes,  400,   405 ; 
•  question  as  to  the  real  nature  of  the 
influence  exercised  by  him,  392,  401, 
404,  406 ;  partly  owing  to  his  force 
of  character,  425-427;  his  attractive- 
ness as  a  writer  due  to  his  naturalness 
and  independence,  416;  hisemployment 
of  lying,  abuse,  and  flattery,  401-404; 


Aretino,  Pietro  (Continued). 

his    reputation   for   orthodoxy,    380, 
405  ;  idea  of  making  him  Cardinal,  ii. 
22,  282  note  i,  403,  v.  405  ;  his  cow- 
ardice, 391,  405,  406;  his  relations  to 
Michelangelo,   iii.    426,   v.   408;  the 
friend  of  Sansovino  and  Titian,  iii. 
167,   1 68,  v.  398,  405  note  4,   409, 
425  ;  his  relations  to  men  of  letters, 
v.   409  ;   his  boasts  of  ignorance  and 
attacks  on  the  purists,  410-414;  his 
celerity    of   composition,    414 ;    his 
faults  of  taste,  417 ;  effect  of  his  writ- 
ings on  the  euphuistic  literature  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  and  on  the 
literature  of  abuse  in  Europe,  417, 
422;  his  literary  associates,  419-423; 
the  epitaph  composed  upon  him,  423; 
his  portrait  (i)  engraved  by  Guiseppe 
Patrini,  (2)  by  Sansovino,  on  the  door 
of  the  sacristy  in  St.  Mark's,  iii.  168, 
v.  424  ;  his  contradictions  of  charac- 
ter, v.  425,  517;    Aretino  embodies 
the  vices  of  his  age,  425,   523 ;   his 
Correspondence,  384,  note  i,  393  note 
i ;  its  illustrations  of  the  profligacy 
of  Rome,  386  note  i,  387  note  I ;  a 
letter  to  Titian  quoted  for  a  descrip- 
tion of  a  Venetian  sunset,  iii.  351,  v. 
417  ;  Aretino  relates  in  a  letter  his 
life  at  Mantua,  v.  388  ;  letters  of  his 
cited  for  the  death  of  Giovanni  de' 
Medici  delle  Bande  Nere,  391  note  2; 
the  Letter  to  the  Doge  of  Venice, 
395  ;    letters    describing  his  life  at 
Venice,    396-399;    probability   that 
Aretino    tampered    with    his    corre- 
spondence   before    publication,    398 
note  i,  399  note  i;  letter  describing  his 
method  of  flattery,  403  note  i ;   an- 
other quoted  as  a  specimen  of  his  beg- 
ging style,  404  note  I ;   another  writ- 
ten  to   Vittoria    Colonna,    who   en- 
treated him  to  devote  himself  to  pious 
literature,  407  ;  another  to  Bernardo 
Tasso  on  epistolary  style.  411 
Arezzo,  the  high  school  at,  ii.  116;  re- 
ceives a  diploma  from  Charles   IV., 
118 

—  Cathedral  shrine  of  S.   Donato  (by 
Giovanni  Pisano),  iii.  1 10 

—  S.  Francesco,  Piero  della  Francesca, 
Dream  of  Constantine,  iii.  235 


560 


1XDEX. 


Argyropoulos,  John,  the  guest  of  Palla 
degli  Strozziat  Padua,  ii.  168;  teaches 
'  Greek  at  Florence  and  Rome,  210 

Ariosto,  Gabriele,  brother  of  the  poet, 
finishes  La  Scolastica,  iv.  502,  v.  150 

Ariosto,  Giovanni  Battista,  illegitimate 
son  of  the  poet,  iv.  502 

Ariosto,  Lodovico,  his  panegyrics  of 
Lucrezia  Borgia,  i.  420,  422,  v.  12 
note  i  ;  of  the  d'Este  family,  v.  5,  7, 
9,  11,  12  note  i,  30;  Ariosto  inferior 
as  a  poet  to  Dante,  ii.  9  ;  analogy  of 
his  character  to  that  of  Boccaccio,  iv. 
«>o6  ;  quoted  for  the  word  umanisla, 
ii.  71  note  i  ;  had  no  knowledge  of 
Greek,  iv.  493,  517  ;  facts  of  his  life, 
493-503  (cp.  517) ;  enters  the  ser- 
vice of  Cardinal  Ippolito  d'Este,  494, 
(cp.  517)  ;  refuses  to  enter  the 
Churcn,  495  ;  his  rupture  with  the 
Cardinal,  496  ;  enters  the  service  of 
Alfonso  I.  of  Ferrara,  498  ;  his  super- 
intendence of  the  Ducal  Theatre,  498, 
v.  140,  141,  144;  his  marriage,  iv. 
502,  v.  38 ;  receives  a  pension  from 
the  Marquis  of  Vasto,  iv.  503;  his 
personal  habits,  504 ;  his  device  of  the 
pen,  521 ;  his  genius  representative  of 
his  age,  v.  49,  518  ;  the  Satires  cited 
for  the  nepotism  of  the  Popes,  i.  413, 
note  2,  iv.  509,  518;  on  the  relations 
of  the  Papacy  to  the  nation,  ii.  22  ; 
on  the  bad  character  of  the  Human- 
ists, 519,  iv.  517;  written  in  the  me- 
tre of  the  Divine  Comedy,  iv.  172, 
519;  revelation  of  his  own  character 
contained  in  the  Satires,  504,  505-508, 
517-519,  v.  i,  5;  their  interest  in  il- 
lustrating the  Renaissance,  iv.  518; 
subjects  of  the  Satires,  508  ;  the  first 
Satire:  ecclesiastical  vices,  509  (cp. 
ii.  406) ;  the  second  :  dependents  upon 
Courts,  character  of  Ippolito  d'Este, 
509 ;  the  third  :  the  choice  of  a  wife, 
510,  v.  38;  fourth  and  sixth:  Court 
life  and  place-hunting,  iv.  511-513; 
the  fifth :  the  poet  at  Garfagnana, 
5 14 ;  sketches  of  contemporaries,  5 1"^; 
the  seventh:  a  tutor  wanted  for  his 
son,  vices  of  the  Humanists,  516  (for 
the  latter  cp.  v.  155  note  2) ;  the  Can- 
zoni,  iv.  520;  the  origin  of  his  love 
for  Alexandra  Benucci,  520;  Giuli- 


Ariosto,  Lodovico  (Continued). 
ano  de'  Medici  to  his  widow,  520; 
the  Capitoli,  509  note  I,  519,  v.  5  ; 
the  Cinque  Canti,  iv.  501,  502 ;  pas- 
sage on  the  Italian  tyrants  quoted,  i. 
130,  iv.  506  note  2 ;  the  Madrigals 
and  Sonnets,  iv.  522;  the  Elegies, 
519,  521  ;  his  Latin  poems,  ii.  497, 
iv.  494,  497  note  i,  506  note  i,  522, 
v.  38;  his  translations  from  Latin 
comedies,  v.  140;  the  Comedies,  40 
note  5,  in,  122,  123,  146  note  i  ;  the 
Negromante  cited  in  illustration  of 
the  character  of  Italian  witches,  346 
note  i ;  plots  of  the  comedies,  148, 
153  note  i  ;  their  satire,  150 ;  the 
Prologues,  147  note  i,  150;  the  Sco~ 
iastica,  left  unfinished  by  Ariosto,  iv. 
502,  v.  150;  its  plot,  v.  150;  excel- 
lence of  the  characters,  151-153  ;  its 
satire,  153-155  ;  artistic  merit  of  the 
comedies,  156;  criticisms  of  them  by 
Machiavelli  (?)  and  Cecchi,  156  ;  their 
value  as  sketches  of  contemporary  life, 
1 59;  the  Orlando  f  arioso :  its  rela- 
tion to  the  old  romances,  iv.  248, 
249  ;  his  debt  to  Boiardo,  458  (cp.  i. 
171),  470,  489,  492;  his  silence  re- 
specting his  indebtedness,  490;  con- 
trast of  Ariosto  and  Boiardo,  463  ; 
continuous  labour  of  Ariosto  upon  the 
Orlando,  497,  503,  v.  42  ;  the  Or- 
lando the  final  expression  of  the 
Cinque  Cento,  v.  2 ;  Ariosto's  choice 
of  a  romantic  subject.  4-  6 ;  why  he 
set  himself  to  finish  Boiardo's  poem, 
6  ;  artistic  beauty  of  the  Orlando,  6, 
8,  14,  515  ;  its  subject  as  illustrating 
the  age,  ^  ;  Ariosto's  treatment  of  ro- 
mance, 9,  15;  material  of  the  Or- 
lando, 9-12 ;  the  connection  of  its 
I  various  parts,  15  ;  its  pictorial  charac- 
/  ter,  t7~2o  ;  Ariosto's  style  contrasted 
I  with  the  brevity  of  Dante,  19 ;  his 
power  of  narrative,  20 ;  his  knowledge 
of  character,  21;  the  preludes  to  the 
Cantos,  22  ;  Tasso's  censure  of  them, 
23  ;  the  tales  interspersed  in  the  nar- 
rative, 23-25  ;  Ariosto's  original  treat- 
ment of  the  material  borrowed  by 
him,  25  ;  his  irony,  26 ;  illustrated  by 
Astolfo's  journey  to  the  moon,  27-30; 
illustrated  by  the  episode  of  S.  Mi- 


INDEX. 


Ariosto,  Loclovico  {Continued). 

chael  in  the  monastery,  31-33;  pecu- 
liar character  of  his  imagination,  29  ; 
his  humour,  33  ;  his  sublimity  and 
pathos,  34-36 ;  the  story  of  Olimpia, 
36 ;  Euripiclean  quality  of  Ariosto, 
35-37  5  the  female  characters  in  the 
Orlando,  37-40;  Lessing's  criticism 
of  the  description  of  Alcina,  iv.  116, 
v.  19  ;  Ariosto's  perfection  of  style,  v. 
41 ;  his  advance  in  versification  on 
Poliziano  and  Boiardo,  43  ;  compari- 
son of  Ariosto  and  Tasso,  44 ;  illus- 
trations of  his  art  from  contemporary 
painters,  45  ;  his  similes  46-49  ;  the 
lines  on  the  contemporary  poets 
quoted — upon  Bembo,  258  note  I  ; — 
upon  Aretino,  385  note  I 

Ariosto,  Virginio,  illegitimate  son  of 
the  poet,  iv.  502  ;  his  Recollections 
of  his  father,  502,  504 

Aristotle,  influence  of  the  Politics  at  the 
Renaissance,  i.  197  note  r,  250  note 
I  ;  cited,  234  note  I,  235  note  \;  the 
Lines  on  Virtue  translated,  iv.  62 ; 
supposed  coffin  of  Aristotle  at  Pa- 
lermo, i.  461 ;  Aristotle  known  to  the 
Middle  Ages  chiefly  through  the 
Arabs,  ii.  66,  68,  iii.  209,  v.  468;  re- 
garded in  the  Middle  Ages  as  a  pillar 
of  orthodoxy,  ii.  208,  v.  462 ;  his  sys- 
tem turned  against  orthodox  doctrines 
at  the  Renaissance,  v.  472  ;  quarrel  of 
the  Aristotelians  and  the  Platonists,  ii. 
208,  244,  247,  394,  v.  454  ;  study  of 
the  Poetics  by  the  Italian  playwrights, 
v.  127,  132  note  i,  135  ;  outlines  of 
the  Aristotelian  system,  462-466 ; 
problems  for  speculation  successively 
suggested  by  Aristotelian  studies, 
466-470 

Arnold  of  Brescia,  i.  64,  iv.  12 

Arnolfo  del  Cambio,  ii.  5  ;  the  architect 
of  the  Palazzo  Vecchio  at  Florence, 
iii.  61-63;  impress  of  his  genius  on 
Florence,  63  ;  his  work  as  a  sculptor, 
62  note  i ;  begins  the  Duomo,  64 ; 
his  intentions,  66 

Arpino,  traditional  reverence  for  Cicero 
there,  ii.  30,  iv.  12 

Arrabbiati,  name  of  the  extreme  Medi- 
cean  party  at  Florence,  i.  529 

Arthur  Legend?,   the,  preferred  by  the 


Arthur  Legends  (Continued). 

Italian  nobles  to  the  stories  of  Ro- 
land, iv.  13,  17,  244,  437,  v.  52; 
represent  a  refined  and  decadent  feu- 
dalism, v.  52 

Arii,  the,  in  Italian  cities,  i.  35,  72 ;  at 
Florence,  224 

Arts,  degeneracy  of  the  plastic  arts  in 
the  early  Middle  Ages.  i.  17  ;  change 
brought  about  in  them  by  the  Renais- 
sance, 18-20;  predominance  of  art  in 
the  Italian  genius,  iii.  1-5 ;  art  and 
religion — how  far  inseparable,  6  note 
r ;  the  arts  of  the  Renaissance  had  to 
combine  Pagan  and  Christian  tradi- 
tions, 6,  170;  share  of  the  arts  in  the 
emancipation  of  the  intellect,  8,  23, 
32,  iv.  346  note  i  ;  the  arts  invade  re- 
ligion by  their  tendency  to  materialize 
its  ideals,  iii.  ii,  19,  22,  31  ;  antago- 
nism of  art  and  religion,  24-26,  28, 
31 ;  the  separate  spheres  and  meeting- 
points  of  art  and  religion,  30;  im- 
portant part  played  by  Tuscany  in  the 
development  of  Italian  art,  185  note  i ; 
fluctuations  in  the  estimation  of  ar- 
tists, illustrated  by  Botticelli,  249  note 
l  ;  works  of  art  may  be  judged  either 
by  aesthetic  quality  or  as  expressing 
ideas,  343  note  i  ;  commercial  spirit 
in  which  art  was  pursued  in  Italy,  442 
note  I 

Ascanio  de'  Mori,  his  Novelle,  v.  60 

Ascham,  Roger,  quoted  for  the  English 
opinion  on  Italy,  i.  472 

Asolanus.  father-in-law  and  partner  of 
Aldo  Manuzio,  ii.  388 

Assisi,  Church  of  S:  Francis,  designed 
by  a  German  architect,  iii.  50;  im- 
portance of  its  decorations  by  Giotto 
in  the  history  of  Italian  art,  195 ; 
Simone  Martini's  Legend  of  S.  Mar- 
tin, 217 

Assorditi,  the,  an  Academy  at  Urbino, 
ii.  366 

Asti,  transferred  to  the  house  of  Orleans 
by  Gian  Galeazzo  Visconti,  i.  143 
note  2,  v.  333;  its  half  French  char- 
acter, v.  333 

Astrology,  influence  of,  in  Italy,  i.  428 
note  i,  iii.  77  note  I 

Athens,  comparison  of  Athens  and  Flo- 
rence, i.  234,  236,  ii.  163,  165 


562 


INDEX^ 


Athens,   Duke  of,  i.  75  note  I,  221,  iil 

3°9 

Attendolo,  Sforza  (father  of  Francesco 
Sforza),  i.  86;  said  to  have  been  a 
peasant,  159  ;  his  murder  of  Terzi, 
121  note  i  ;  his  desertion  of  Queen 
Joan  of  Naples,  361 

Aurispa,  Giovanni,  protected  by  Nicho- 
las, i.  in,  173;  brings  Greek  MS  S. 
to  Italy,  ii.  141,  267,  301  ;  obliged 
to  leave  Florence  by  Niccoli's  opposi- 
tion, 182;  made  Apostolic  Secretary 
by  EugeniusIV.,  220;  his  life  at  Fer- 
rara,  301 

Avanzi,  Girolamo,  a  member  of  the  Al- 
dine  Academy,  ii.  387 

Averrhoes,  the  arch-heresiarch  of  medi- 
aeval imagination,  in.  206-209  (cp.  iv. 
447),  v.  449  ;  his  teaching  on  immor- 
tality, v.  469 

Averrhoists,  Petrarch's  dislike  of  them, 
ii.  101.  iii.  209  ;  Pomponazzi  and  the 
Averrhoists,  v.  462 

Avignon,  transference  of  the  Papal 
Court  there,  i,  77,  80,  101,  374,  iv.  2, 

87 

Awelenato,  L\  name  of  an  Italian  bal- 
lad, iv.  275  ;  its  correspondence  with 
Northern  ballads,  275-278,  v.  119 
note  i 

(See 


BACCIO   DELLA  PORTA. 
Bartolommeo,  Fra. ) 

Bacon,  Roger,  his  anticipation  of  mod- 
ern science,  i.  9;  imprisoned  by  the 
Franciscans,  10  ;  knew  the  use  of  the 
telescope,  29 

Baden  (Switzerland^,  Poggio's  visit  to, 
ii.  231 

Baglioni,  the,  supported  by  the  people 
at  Perugia,  i.  87  (cp.  v.  498) ;  their  rise 
to  power,  114,  115,  122,  123;  their 
misgovernment,  130,  225,  iii.  328; 
overthrown  by  Gian  Galeazzo,  i.  148 ; 
members  of  this  family  become  Con- 
dot  tieri,  161  ;  take  part  in  the  Diet 
of  La  Magione,  351  ;  attempted  mas- 
sacre of  tliem,  39'  note  2  - 

—  Astorre,  his  comeliness  of  person, 
it  31  ;  Gian  Paolo,  i.  421  note  i  ; 
Machiavelli  condemns  him  for  not 
murdering  Julius  II.,  324,  463;  be- 
headed by  Leo  X.,  439  ;  Grifonetto, 


Baglioni,  Astorre  (Continued.) 

168  note  i,  iii.  221,  v.  118;  Mala- 
testa,  betrays  Florence,  i.  223,  245, 
285  ;  Pandolfo,  murder  of,  148  note  2 

Bajazet,  Sultan,  his  relations  with  Alex- 
ander VI.,  i.  415 

Baldi,  Bernardino,  his  pastoral  poems, 
v.  224 

Balduccio,  Giovanni,  invited  to  Milan 
by  Azzo  Visconti,  iii.  123  ;  carves  the 
shrine  of  S.  Peter  Martyr  in  S.  Eu- 
torgio,  123 

Baldus,  dies  of  hunger  in  the  sack  of 
Rome,  ii.  ^\\ 

Balia,  the,  at  Florence,  i.  230,  526 

Ballad  poetry,  general  absence  of  ballads 
in  Italian,  iv.  37  (cp.  251),  274,  v. 
119  ;  the  ballad  of  ISAwelenato,  iv. 
275-278;  connection  of  ballad  poetry 
and  the  Drama,  v.  120 

Sallata,  or  Canzone  a  Ballo,  meaning  of 
the  term  in  Italian,  iv.  2^1  note  2  ; 
popularity  of  the  ballate  in  Italy,  261- 
263  * 

Bambagiuoli,  poems  of,  iv.  164 

Bandello,  Matteo,  belonged  to  the  Do- 
minican order,  i.  459  v.  64 ;  facts  of 
his  life,  v.'  63  ;  his  Novelle  cited  for 
the  profligacy  of  Rome  and  the  scan- 
dals of  the  Church,  i.  446  note  i,  458, 
v.  66  ;  use  of  them  made  by  the  Re- 
formers against  the  Church,  v.  65,  66 ; 
state  of  society  revealed  by  them.  65  ; 
their  allusions  to  witchct  aft,  346  note 
I  ;  their  dedications,  62 ;  want  of 
tragic  and  dramatic  power  in  the  No- 
velle, 67-69  ;  their  pictures  of  man- 
ners, 68 ;  Bandello's  ability  best 
shown  in  the  romantic  tales,  69  ;  the 
description  of  Pomponazzi  in  one  of 
the  novels,  461  ;  Bandello.  a  sort  of 
prose- Ariosto,  70 ;  the  tale  of  Ge- 
rardo  and  Elena,  70  ;  the  tale  of  Ro- 
meo and  Juliet :  comparison  with 
Shakspere's  drama,  71  ;  the  tale  of 
Nicuola  :  its  relation  to  the  Twelfth 
Night,  72;  tale  of  Edward  III.  and 
Alice  of  Salisbury,  73-75 ;  compari- 
son of  Bandello  with  Beaumont  and 
P'letcher,  74,  75  note  I ;  Bandello's 
apology  for  the  licentiousness  of  the 
Novelle,  76 :  for  their  literary  style, 
77 


INDEX. 


563 


Bandinelli,  Baccio,  feebleness  of  his 
statues,  iii.  173;  legend  that  he  de- 
stroyed Michelangelo's  cartoon  for 
the  Battle  of  Pisa,  396  note  i  ;  his 
quarre^with  Cellini,  477  (cp.  173) 
Bandini  assassinates  Giulianode'  Meuici, 

i-  398 

Barbaro,  Daniello,  a  letter  of  his  to 
Aretino  quoted  for  contemporary 
opinion  of  the  Dialogo  de  le  Corti,  v. 
427  note  2 

Barbaro,  Francesco,  i.  173,  a  scholar  of 
Giovanni  da  Ravenna,  ii.  100;  learns 
Greek  from  Chrysoloras,  no;  his  ac- 
count of  Poggio's  enthusiasm  in  the 
quest  of  MSS.,  138  ;  his  patronage  of 
learning  at  Venice,  212 
Barbavara,  Francesco,  i.  150 
Barbiano,  Alberico  da,  leader  of  Con- 

dottieri.  i.  150,  159 

Barbieri,  Gian  Maria,  sides  with  Castel- 

vetro  in  his  quarrel  with  Caro,  v.  286 

Bardi,  the,  at    Florence,  i.    238;    their 

loan    to    Edward   III.,    257;    their 

bankruptcy,  258 

Bargagli,  Scipione,  his  Novelle,  v.  60  ; 
the  description  of  the  Siege  of  Siena 
in  the  Introduction,  98  (cp.  522) 
Barlam,  teaches  Leontius  Pilatus  Greek, 

ii.  90 
Baroccio,  Federigo,  his  relation  to  Cor- 

reggio,  iii.  495 
Baroncelli,  the   Roman   conspirator,  i. 

376 

Bartolommeo,  Fra,  his  portraits  of  Sa- 
vonarola, i.  508,  iii.  309  note  2  ;  story 
of  his  Sebastian  in  the  cloister  of  San 
Marco,  iii.  28 ;  his  position  in  the 
history  of  Italian  art/  304 ;  his  friend- 
ship with  Albertinelli,  305 ;  furthered 
the  progress  of  composition  and  col- 
ouring in  painting,  331,  498  ;  his  at- 
tempt to  imitate  Michelangelo,  307 : 
the  painter  of  adoration,  307  ;  his 
unfinished  Madonna  with  the  Patron 
Saints  of  Florence,  308;  influence  of 
Savonarola  upon  him,  309 
Bartolommeo  da  Montepulciano,  dis- 
covers the  MSS  of  Vegetius  and  Pom- 
peius  Festus,  ii.  140 
Basaiti,  Marco,  iii.  362 
Basle,  Council,  question  of  precedence 
at,  ii.  216 


Bassani,  the,  Venetian  painters,  iii.  37 j 

Basso,  Girolamo,  nephew  of  Sixtus  IV 
i.  389 

Ball.  Luca,  composes  the  music  for 
Cecchi's  Elevation  of  the  Cross  iv 
326 

Battitti,  the  Italian  name  for  the  Flagel- 
lants, iv.  281,  282,  283 

Bazzi.     (See  Sodoma.) 

Beatrice  di  Tenda,  i.  152 

Beaufort,  Cardinal,  invites  Poggio  to 
England,  ii.  231  note  3 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  comparison  of, 
with  Bandello.  v.  74.  75  note  i 

Beauty,  Greek  appreciation  of  bodily 
beauty  contrasted  with  Christian  as- 
ceticism, iii.  13-18,  19;  ihe  sludy  of 
human  beauty  revived  by  the  painters 
of  the  Renaissance,  23 ;  the  delight 
in  the  beauty  of  nature  restored  by  the 
Renaissance,  33,  107,  v.  250 ;  the 
later  artists  wholly  absorbed  by  the 
pursuit  of  sensual  beauty,  iii.  453-455  ; 
the  beauty  of  wild  and  uncultivated 
scenery  unappreciated  in  the  Renais- 
sance, 464,  v.  46 

Beccadelli,  Antonio,  tutor  of  Ferdinand 
I.,  i.  174,  ii.  257  ;  in  attendance  on 
Alphonso  I.,  252;  the  author  of  the 
Hermaphroditus,  254  (cp.  i.  174  note 
I),  452  ;  favourable  reception  of  his 
work,  255  ;  crowned  poet  by  the  Em- 
peror Sigismund,  255  ;  his  Hertnaph- 
roditns  denounced  by  the  Church, 
256 ;  honours  paid  to  him,  256  (cp. 
524) ;  introduces  Pontanus  at  the 
Court  of  Naples,  363 
Beccafumi,  Domenico,  the  scholar  of 

Sodoma,  iii.  501 

Beccaria  Family,  the,  of  Pavia,  i.  145 
Begarelli,  Antonio,   Modanese  artist  in 

terra-cotta,  iii.  164  note  i 
Belcari,  Feo,  his  Alphabet,  iv.  240;  his 
Vita  del  Beato  Colombino,  240 ;  his 
Sacrt    Rappresentazioni,   320,    340 ; 
Benivieni's  Elegy  on  his  death,  321 
Belgioioso,  Count  of.  Lodovico  Sforza's 
ambassador    to    Charles     VIII.,    i. 

Bellincini,  Aurelio,  communicates  Cas- 
telvetro's  criticisms  to  Caro.  anil  so 
causes  the  quarrel  between  them,  v. 
285 


564 


INDEX. 


Bellini,   Gentile,   iii.   362  ;  his  pictures  I 
for   the   Scuola  of  S.   Croce,    363:  | 
Giovanni,   362 ;    how   far   influenced 
by  his  brother-in-law  Mantegna,  277, 
362  ;  his  perfection   as   a   colourist,  I 
365 ;  adhered  to  the  earlier  manner 
of  painting,  365  ;   Jacopo,  362 

Bello,  •  Francesco  (called  //  Cieco\  Ian- { 
guage  of  his  Mambriano  respecting  ! 
the  Chronicle  of  Turpin,  iv.  439  note 
I  ;  character  of  Astolfo   in   it,  470 ! 
nrte  i  ;  use  of  episodical  novelle  in  it, 
400  note  2  ;  classed  by  Folengo  with 
Boiardo,  Pulci,  and  Ariosto,  v.  316 

Beltraffio,  Giovanni  Antonio,  the  schol- 
ar of  Lionardo  da  Vinci,  iii.  484 

Beinbo,  Bernardo,  builds  the  tomb  of 
Dante  at  Ravenna,  ii.  410 

Beinbo,  Pietro,  introduced  in  Castigli- 
one's  '  Cortegiano,'  i,  184,  ii.  411,  v. 
260,  265  ;  his  moral  quality,  i.  459 
note  2,  v.  261  ;  his  account  of  De 
Comines'  behaviour  before  the  Vene- 
tian Signory,  i.  578  note  \  ;  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Aldine  Academy,  ii.  387 ; 
made  a  Cardinal,  402 ;  his  rise  into 
greatness,  403 ;  his  friendship  with 
Lucrezia  Borgia,  i.  422.  ii.  403,  411, 
v.  263  ;  with  Veronica  Gambara,  v. 
289 ;  said  to  have  saved  Pomponazzo 
from  ecclesiastical  procedure,  it  410, 
v.  461  ;  his  life  at  Urbino,  ii.  411,  v. 
260 ;  his  retirement  at  Padua,  ii.  413 ; 
becomes  the  dictator  of  Italian  let- 
ters, ii.  414,  v.  258,  497 ;  greatness 
of  his  personal  influence,  v.  264 ;  his 
quarrel  with  Broccardo,  377 ;  his 
panegyric  of  Sadoleto's  Laocoon^  ii. 
497  ;  his  Venetian  origin,  illustrating 
the  loss  of  intellectual  supremacy  by 
Florence,  507,  v.  258 ;  Cellini  visits 
him  at  Padua  and  makes  a  medallion 
of  him.  iii.  463  ;  his  advice  to  Sado- 
leto  not  to  read  St.  Paul  for  fear  of 
spoiling  his  taste,  ii.  398,  413;  his 
ridiculous  purisms,  400  ;  his  pedantic 
and  mannered  style,  413  (cp.  535)*  v. 
259 ;  his  Latin  verses,  ii.  453,  48!- 
4$5>  v.  249 ;  Gyraldus'  criticism  of 
them,  ii.  484  ;  the  De  Galeso  trans- 
lated, 483 ;  the  Elegy  on  Poliziano, 
357.  484,  v.  258 ;  translated  (in  prose), 
ii.  484 ;  his  cultivation  of  Italian, 


Bembo,  Pietro  {Continued.') 

414,  v.  258  :  the  Gli  Asolani,  ii.  411, 
v.  259,  265  ;  the  Defence  of  the  Vul- 
gar Tongue,  v.  259  note  i,  260;  the 
Regole  Grammaticali,  261  ;  the  Ital- 
ian poems,  261  ;  translation  of  a  son- 
net, illustrating  the  conceits  affected 
by  him,  261  ;  his  Letters,  262-264, 
360  ;  mention  in  one  of  them  of  the 
representations  of  Latin  comedies  at 
Ferrara,  140. 

Benedetti,  the,  of  Todi,  the  family  to 
which  Jacopone  da  Todi  belonged, 
iv.  285,  287 

Benedict  XL,  surmise  of  his  death  by 
poison,  i.  374,  iii.  115;  his  monu- 
ment by  Giovanni  Pisano,  iii.  115 

Benedictines,  their  treatment  of  the 
classical  literature,  i.  10,  ii.  133; 
their  hatred  of  the  Franciscans,  v. 

325 

Benevento,  a  Lombard  duchy,  i.  48 ; 
its  fate,  note  i,  50  ;  battle  of,  iv.  21, 
27,  48 

Bemgnius,  Cornelius,  his  edition  ot 
Pindar,  the  first  Greek  book  printed 
in  Rome,  i.  405  note  I 

Benivieni,  i.  Girolamo,  his  elegies  in  the 
metre  of  the  Divine  Comedy,  iv.  172  ; 
his  poetical  version  of  the  novel  Tan- 
credi,  250;  his  hymns,  v.  519:  two 
translated,  iv.  303  ;  his  Elegy  on  Feo 
Belcari,  321  (see  Appendix  vi.  for 
translation);  his  Pastoral  Poems,  v. 
224 

Bentivogli,  the,  supported  by  the  people 
of  Bologna,  i.  87,  102  ;  their  rise  to 
power,  114,  123,  124;  claimed  descent 
from  King  Enzo,  115,  iv.  49;  take 
part  in  the  'Diet  of  La  Magione,' 

35. * 

Bentivogli,  Annibale  de',  v.  140;  Car- 
dinal de',  his  portrait  by  Vandyck,  ii. 
27  ;  Francesca,  murders  her  husband, 
Galeotto  Manfredi,  i.  428  note  \ 

Bentivoglio,  Ercole,  his  Satiric  Poems, 
v.  381 

Benucci,  Alessandra,  the  wife  of  Ari- 
osto, iv.  502,  520,  521,  522,  v.  38 

Benvenuto  da  Imola,  his  account  of 
Boccaccio's  visit  to  Monte  Cassino, 

»•  133 

Benzoni  Family,  the,  at  Crema,  i.  150 


INDEX. 


565 


Berardo,  Girolamo,  his  versions  of  the 
,    Casina  and  the  Mostellaria,  v.  140 
Berengar,  the  last  Italian  king,  i.  51-5- 
Bergamo,  story  of  Calabrians  murderec 

there,  i.  74 
—  S.  Maria  Maggiore,  theCapella  Col 

leoni,  iii.  165 

Bernard,  S.,  the  type  of  mediaeval  con 
tempt  for  natural  beauty,  i.  13 ;   his 
Hymn  to  Christ  on  the  Cross,  iii.  17 
two  stanzas  translated,  note  i 
Bernard  de  Ventadour,  iv.  60 
Bernardino  S.  (of  Siena),  his  preaching, 
1.611-613,  iv.  175  ;  his  attacks  on  Bee 
cadelli's  Hermaphroditus,  ii.  256  not> 
I  (cp.  516);  his  canonisation,  i.  461, 

Berni,  Francesco,  related  to  Cardina 
Bibbiena,  v.  357 ;  taken  by  him  to 
Rome,  357;  enters  the  Church  and 
becomes  Canon  of  Florence,  i.  459, 
v'  357,  358;  acts  as  secretary  to  Gi- 
berti,  Biahop  of  Verona,  v.  357  ;  be- 
comes a  member  of  the  Vignajuoh 
Academy  at  Rome,  ii.  366,  v.  357  ; 
loses  his  property  in  the  sack  of 
Rome,  v.  357 ;  retires  to  Florence, 
358  ;  aids  Broccardo  against  Aretino 
in  his  quarrel  with  Bembo,  377 ;  mys- 
terious circumstances  of  his  death, 
358,  374,  377,  381  (cp.  L  170  note  i) ; 
his  easy,  genial  temper,  357,  359, 
368 ;  his  correspondence,  360 ;  his 
scantiness  of  production  and  avoid- 
ance of  publication,  361-363 ;  his  re- 
finement of  style,  3:5  ;  the  Capitoli 
(i),  poetical  epistles,  363:  (2)  occa- 
sional poems,  364 :  (3)  poems  on  bur- 
lesque subjects,  364 ;  degree  in  which 
Berni  is  responsible  for  the  profligacy 
of  the  Capitoli^  366 ;  manner  in  which 
he  treated  his  themes,  366  ;  the  Capi- 
toli written  in  terza  rima,  366  (cp. 
iv.  172);  the  Capitolo  on  Adrian 
VI. 's  election  to  the  Papacy,  v.  368, 
369  (cp.  i.  443) ;  the  sonnet  on  Pope 
Clement,  v.  368  (cp.  i.  443) ;  trans- 
lated, v.  368 ;  the  sonnet  on  Alessan- 
dro  de  Medici,  the  force  of  their  satire 
weakened  by  Berni's  servility  to  the 
Medici,  369 ;  excellence  of  Berni's 
personal  caricatures,  370;  the  sonnet 
on  Aretino,  371,  389,  390  note  I, 


Berni,  Francesco  (Continued). 

406  ;  the  rustic  plays,  Catrina  and 
Mogliazzo,  224,  311  ;  the  rifacimento 
of  the  Orlando  Innamorato,  iv.  491, 
v.  373  ;  object  of  the  undertaking,  v. 
373;  published  in  a  mutilated  form, 
374 ;  the  question  who  was  guilty  of 
the  fraud,  375  ;  probability  that  Are- 
tino, with  the  aid  of  Albicante,  con- 
trived the  mutilation  of  the  MS.  or 
proof-sheets,  375-378,  419;  Verge- 
no's  statement  that  Berni  had  em- 
braced Protestantism  and  wrote  the 
rifacimento  with  the  view  of  spread- 
ing Lutheran  opinions,  378-380  ;  the 
suppressed  stanzas,  intended  by  Berni 
as  the  Induction  to  the  twentieth 
Canto  of  the  Innamorato,  379  (for 
a  translation  see  Appendix  ii.  543) ; 
likelihood  that  the  ecclesiastical  au- 
thorities may  have  employed  Aretino, 
380 
Bernini,  adds  the  Colonnades  to  S. 

Peter's,  iii.  93 

Beroaldo,  Filippo,  edits  Tacitus'  An- 
nals for  the  first  edition,  ii.  425; 
made  Librarian  of  the  Vatican,  425  ; 
professor  in  the  Sapienza  at  Rome, 
427  ;  his  version  of  the  Principe  di 
Salerno  in  Latin  elegiacs,  iv.  250 
note  2 

Bertini,  Romolo,  v.  311 
Bertoldo,  his  work  as  a  bronze  founder 

in  Italian  churches,  iii.  78  note  I 
Bertrand  du  Poiet,  i.  81 
Bescape,  Pietro,  his  Bible  History  writ- 
ten for  popular  use  in  a  Nortli  Italian 
dialect,  iv.  34 
Bessarion,  Cardinal,  a  disciple  of  Gem- 
istos  Plethos,   ii.  204,  247 ;  joins  the 
Latin   Church,    204,   246 ;  gives  his 
library  to   Venice,   247 ;  his  contro- 
versy with  Trapezuntios,  247 
Beyle,  Henri,  his  critique  on  the  fres- 
coes in  the  Sistine  Chapel,  iii.  427 
Bianclii  and  Neri  Factions,  the,  at  Pis- 
toja,  i.  210  note  2;  at  Florence,  221, 
225 
Bianchino,  II  Cieco,  his  Incatcnatura, 

iv.  268 

3ibbiena,  Cardinal,  i.  459 ;  introduced 
in  Castiglione's  'Cortegiano,'  isj. 
190;  his  kinship  with  Berni,  v.  357; 


556 


INDEX. 


Bibbiena,  Cardinal  (Continued}. 
his  rise  to  greatness,  ii.  403,  v.  145  ; 
his  comedy,  Calandra,  v.  ill,  123: 
largely  indebted  to  the  Menachmi, 
145  :  its  popularity,  146  :  its  literary 
style,  146  note  i  :  representations  of 
it  at  Urbino  and  Rome,  146 ;  com- 
parison of  his  comedy  with  those  of 
Aretino  and  Machiavelli,  180 

Bibboni,  Wmcesco,  the  murderer  of 
Lorenzino  de'  Medici,  i.  480  note  3 
(cp.  v.  517) 

Bigi,  name  of  the  Medicean  faction  at 
Florence,  i.  529 

Bini,  Francesco,  a  member  of  the  Vig- 
najnoli  Academy  at  Rome,  v.  357; 
the  friend  and  correspondent  of  Berni, 
360 ;  his  Capitolo  on  the  Mai  Fran- 
sfsf,  365 

Biondo,  Flavio,  ii.  430 ;  patronized  by 
Eugenius  IV. ,  ii.  220;  his  prodigious 
learning,  220,  iii.  272 ;  not  duly  ap- 
preciated by  his  contemporaries,  ii. 
221 

Bishoprics,  the  Italian  bishoprics  in 
Roman  municipia,  i.  61 

Bishops,  the,  on  the  side  of  the  people 
in  their  first  struggles  for  indepen- 
dence, i.  53,  55-61  ;  the  cities  claim 
the  privilege  of  electing  their  own 
bishops,  59 

Bissolo,  Venetian  painter,  iii.  362 

Blastos,  Nicolaos,  a  Greek  printer  at 
Venice,  ii.  386 

Bloodmadness,  i.  10} ;  Appendix  No.  i 

Boccaccino  da  Cremona,  the  Madonna 
with  S.  Catherine,  iii.  225 

Boccaccio,  Giannandrea.  cited  for  the 
popular  detestation  of  the  Spanish 
cardinals,  i.  410;  for  the  temperance 
in  eating  of  Alexander  VI..  417 

Boccaccio,  Giovanni,  his  services  to  the 
Renaissance,  i.  ii,  iv.  142;  learnt 
V  Greek  late  in  life,  20,  ii.  91,  iv.  120 
note  2  ;  cited  for  the  attachment  of 
the  Italians  to  their  past  history,  ii. 
30;  influenced  by  Petrarch,  87,  89, 
iv.  102  ;  story  of  his  visit  to  the  tomb 
of  Virgil  at  Naples  '•  88,  iv.  101  ; 
his  enthusiasm  for  Dante,  ii.  89;  the 
first  Greek  scholar  in  Europe,  91  ; 
translates  Homer,  93  ;  his  industry  as 
a  scholar,  94,  iv.  101 ;  sen»uousness 


Boccaccio,  Giovanni  (Continued). 
of  his  ideal,  ii.  97,  iv.  100  note  , 
106,  114,  118,  v.  504,  515;  his  visit 
to  Monte  Cassino,  ii.  133  ;  his  rela- 
tion to  Robert  of  Anjou,  2^2,  iv.  120 
note  i  ;  his  influence  on  Italian  litera- 
ture, iv.  3,  123,  v.  518;  not  of  pure 
Italian  blood,  iv.  98 ;  the  typical 
Italian  of  the  middle  class,  99,  104, 
113,  114,  164;  his  realism,  99,  v. 
515;  his  nickname  of  Giovanni  della 
Tranquil  lit  a,  iv.  100  note  \ ;  contem- 
porary denunciations  of  the  Decam- 
eron, 100;  shallowness  of  Boccaccio's 
philosophy,  101.  103;  his  frank  rec- 
ognition of  genius,  102;  comparison 
of  his  character  with  that  of  Ariosto, 
506 ;  his  devotion  to  art,  103 ;  his 
genius  representative  of  the  Renais- 
sance, 1 10,  v.  2 ;  his  descriptions 
have  the  nature  of  painting,  iv.  116; 
shared  the  contempt  of  the  learned 
for  the  lower  classes,  125,  239,;  com- 
parison of  his  prose  with  that  of  the 
other  trecentisti,  132-135  ;  influence 
of  his  style  not  paramount  till  the  age 
of  the  Academies,  135  ;  considered 
by  some  Italian  critics  to  have  estab- 
lished a  false  standard  of  taste,  136; 
the  life  of  Dante,  ii.  36;  its  want  of 
real  appreciation  for  Dante,  iv.  101  ; 
the  Commentary  upon  Dante,  ii.  89, 
96,  iv.  163  ;  \\ieGenealogiaDeorum, 
ii.  94 :  quoted  for  Boccaccio's  teach- 
ing on  poetry,  94  : — the  Decameron  : 
contrasted  with  the  Divina  Corn- 
media,  iv.  104,  127  (cp.  114,  122); 
description  of  the  plague,  forming 
the  background  of  the  Decameron, 
in;  the  satire  of  the  Decameron, 
112;  its  irony,  113;  its  beauty,  114; 
its  superiority  to  his  other  works, 
127  ;  its  testimony  to  the  corruption 
of  Rome,  i.  457  ;  said  by  Sacchetti  to 
have  been  translated  into  English,  iv. 
148  note  4  ;  comparison  between  Boc- 
caccio. Masuccio,  and  Sacchetti,  179: 
his  Minor  Poems,  118:  show  the 
feeling  of  despair  common  to  the  last 
trecentisti^  165;  the  two  sonnets  on 
Dante,  162  ;  the  Ballata,  II  fior  che  V 
valor  ferde,  262  ;  the  Amorosa  Visi- 
onet  114,  119,  123;  the  Ametj,  123; 


INDEX. 


567 


Boccaccio,  Giovanni  (Continued). 
the  Fiammetta,  123 ;  the  first  at- 
tempt in  modern  literature  to  portray 
subjective  emotion  outside  the  writer, 
123;  the  Corbaccio,  124;  occasion 
of  its  being  written,  124  (cp.  98); 
the  Filicopo,  quoted,  115;  its  euphu- 
ism, 120  ;  the  song  of  the  angel,  118  ; 
the  meeting  with  Fiammetta  quoted 
as  a  specimen  of  Boccaccio's  style, 
133  ;  the  Filostrato,  Boccaccio's  finest 
narrative  in  verse,  121 ;  the  Teseide, 
117,  429;  numerous  "imitations  and 
adaptations  of  it  by  other  poets,  117; 
its  value  in  fixing  the  form  of  the  ot- 
tcrva  rima,  118  ;  the  Ninfale  Fieso- 
/ana,  125,  410;  its  place  in- Italian 
literature,  126 

Boccati,  Giovanni,  picture  of  his  at  Pe- 
rugia, representing  Disciplinati  in 
presence  of  the  Virgin,  iv.  203  note  i 

Boethius,  cult  of  him  at  Pavia,  i.  20,  ii. 

3° 
Boiardo,  Matteo  Maria,  the  facts  of  his 

life,  iv.  457 ;  contrast  between  him 
and  Pulci,  456,  v.  8 ;  contrast  of  Boi- 
ardo and  Anosto,  iv.  463,  v.  8 ;  neg- 
lect of  Boiardo,  iv.  459,  464,  491  ; 
the  Sonetti  e  Canzoni,  458  ;  the  Or- 
lando Innamorato  :  gave  Ariosto  his 
theme  (cp.  i.  171);  its  originality  in 
introducing  the  element  of  love  into 
the  Roland  Legends,  iv.  461 ;  earnest- 
ness of  the  poem,  462  ;  its  relation  to 
the  period  of  its  composition,  462; 
broken  off  by  the  invasion  of  Charles 
VIII.  463,  v.  282  note  3 ;  structure 
of  the  Innamorato,  464-466 ;  the 
presentation  of  personages,  466-470, 
478;  the  women  of  the  Innamorato, 
470-472  ;  translation  of  the  episode 
of  Fiordelisa  and  the  sleeping  Rinal- 
do,  471  ;  Boiardo's  conception  of 
love,  472  :  of  friendship  and  comrade- 
ship, 472-474  (translation  of  Orlan- 
do's lament  for  Rinaldo,  473) :  of 
courage  and  courtesy  as  forming  the 
ideal  of  chivalry,  474-477  ;  the  pane- 
gyric of  friendship  translated,  474 ; 
translation  of  the  conversation  of  Or- 
lando and  Agricane,  475  ;  freshness 
of  Boiardo's  art,  478,  484;  passage 
on  chivalrous  indifference  to  wealth 


Boiardo,  Matteo  Maria  (Continued). 
translated,  477 ;  rapidity  of  the  nar- 
ration, 479  ;  roughness  of  the  versifi- 
cation and  style,  480 ;  advance  of 
Ariosto  upon  Boiardo  in  this  respect, 
y.  43  ;  his  treatment  of  the  antique, 
iv.  480-488 ;  translation  of  the  epi- 
sode of  Rinaldo  at  Merlin's  Fount, 
482-484 :  of  that  of  Narcissus,  485- 
487 ;  Boiardo's  use  of  magic.  488 : 
of  allegory,  489  ;  his  freedom  from 
superstition,  489:  the  Timone,  v. 
1 08 

bologna,  annexed  to  the  Milanese,  i. 
136,  148;  the  riot  of  1321,  210  note 
2]  revival  in  1457,  617;  joins  the 
Lombard  League,  ii.  116;  character 
of  Bologna,  as  partly  determined  by 
local  position,  iv.  46 

—  S.  Dominic  :  the  shrine,  designed  by 
Niccola     Pisano.     109 ;      Michelan- 
gelo's work  on  it,  131,  389;  S.  Pe- 
tronio,  jii.  68  note  i 

—  University,  the,  its  rise,  i.  62,  ii.  115; 
its  attempted   suppression   by  Fred- 
erick II.,  116;  number  of  its  students, 
116,   119;    attendance  of  foreigners 
there,    119;    liberality  of  the   town 
government   to  the  University,  120; 
its  reputation  in  the  Middle  Ages,  iv. 
7  ;  pay  of  professors  there,  ii.  122,  v. 
460 ;  long  continuance  of  scholasti- 
cism at  Bologna,  v.  457,  481 ;  differ- 
ent character  of  Bologna  and  Padua, 
460,  497  ;  part  played  by  Bologna  in 
the  history  of  Italian  thought,  481 

—  Bolognese  school  of  Painters,  the, 
their  partiality  to  brutal  motives,  iii. 

25,  l«7 

—  Bolognese  ochool  of  poetry,  iv.  46-49 
Bologna,  Gian,  his  eminence   as  neo- 

pagan  sculptor,  iii.  176 

Bombasi  Paolo,  murdered  during  the 
sack  of  Rome,  ii.  444 

Bona  of  Savoy,  married  to  Galeazzo 
Maria  Sforza,  i.  164,  543 

Bonaccorso  da  Montemagno,  poems  of, 
iv.  165 

Bonaventura,  S.,  cited  for  early  repre- 
sentations of  the  Nativity  at  Christ- 
mas, iv.  308 

Bondini,  Alessandro,  a  member  of  the 
Aldine  Academy,  ii.  386 


568 


INDEX. 


Bonfadio,  Latin  verse  writer,  ii.  507 

Boniface  V11L,  calls  in  Charles  of 
Valoise,  i.  76  ;  his  death,  77,  374 ; 
his  witticism  on  the  Florentines,  247, 
iv.  31  ;  establishes  the  high  school  at 
Rome,  ii.  117;  saying  of  Jacopone 
da  Todi's  about  him,  iv.  289 

Boniface  IX.,  appoints  Poggio  Apos- 
tolic Secretary,  ii.  218 

Bonifacia,  Carmosina,  her  relations  to 
Sannazzaro,  v.  199;  description  of  her 
in  the  Arcadia,  207-209 

Bonifazio  Veneziano,  Hi.  242  note  2, 
368,  371 

Bonvesin  da  Riva,  his  works  written  for 
popular  use  in  a  North  Italian  dialect, 

iv-  34 

Book,  the  Golden,  at  Venice,  i.  91,  195 

Books,  scarcity  of,  an  impediment  to 
mediaeval  culture,  ii.  127  ;  their  enor- 
mous value,  128 ;  price  of  the  books 
issued  by  Aldo  Manuzio,  381 

Bordone,  Paris,  iii.  371 

Borghese,  Nicola,  assassination  of,  i. 
121 

Borgia,  Alfonso  (see  Calixtus  III.):  — 
Cesare,  i.  98  ;  his  visit  to  the  French 
Court,  117;  his  murder  of  Giulio 
Varani,  121,  122;  besieges  Bologna, 
124  ;  Guicciardini's  character  of  him, 
308  ;  Machiavelli's  admiration  oi  him, 
324-326,  345-354 ;  the  story  of  his 
life,  345-354;  his  contest  with  the 
Orsini,  349-352  ;  his  massacre  of  the 
Orsint  faction  at  Sinigaglia,  324,  347, 
352.  iv.  443  ;  his  systematic  murders 
—  «f  the  heirs  of  ruling  families,  353, 
427;  made  Cardinal,  419;  helps  in 
the  murder  of  Prince  Alfonso,  420 ; 
his  murder  of  his  brother,  the  Duke 
of  Gandia,  424  ;  his  murder  of  Pe- 
rotto,  426 ;  his  cruelty,  426 ;  his 
sickness — was  it  occasioned  by  poison? 
429-431 ;  breakdown  of  his  plans, 
431  ;  taken  as  a  hostage  by  Charles 
VIII.,  566;  escapes,  577;  prided 
himself  on  his  strength,  ii.  29  :  John, 
son  of  Alexander  VI.,  i.  419:  feu- 
crczia,  her  marriage,  419;  the  festivi- 
ties on  the  occasion,  v.  141  ;  her  life 
at  Ferrara,  i.  420-424,  ii.  42  ;  her  real 
character,  420 ;  her  friendship  with 
Bembo,  i.  422,  ii.  403,  411,  v.  263; 


Borgia,  Alfonso  (Continued*). 
relics  of  her  in  the  Ambrosian  Libra- 
ry, ii.  411  ;  much  of  the  common 
legend  about  her  due  to  Sannazzaro's 
Epigrams,  469 :  Roderigo  Lenzuoli 
(see  Alexander  VI.) 

Borgo  San  Sepolcro,  Piero  della  Fran- 
cesca's  Resurrection,  iii.  234;  Signo- 
rclli's  Crucifixion,  280  note  I 

Boscoli,  Paolo,  his  conspiracy  against 
the  Medici,  i.  314;  his  confession, 
466  (cp.  v.  519) 

Boson  da  Gubbio,  his  commentary  upon 
the  Divine  Comedy,  iv.  163 

Botticelli,  Sandro,  modern  hero-wor- 
ship of  him,  iii.  249 ;  his  attractive- 
ness, arising  from  the  intermixture  of 
ancient  and  modern  sentiment  in  his 
work,  250,  291  ;  the  qualities  of  vari- 
ous paintings  of  his,  251-254  ;  repre- 
sents the  same  stage  of  culture  in 
painting  as  Poliziano  and  Boiardo  in 
literature,  255  ;  abandons  his  art  from 
religious  motives,  264,  310 ;  influ- 
enced by  Dante,  283  note  2  ;  incurs  a 
charge  of  heterodoxy  by  a  Madonna 
in  Glory  painted  for  Palmieri,  iv. 
171,  v.  549 

Bourbon,  the  Constable,  killed  at  the 
capture  of  Rome,  i.  444,  iii.  455 

Bracceschi,  the  (Condottieri  bands 
formed  by  Braccio  da  Montone),  i. 
1 60,  362 

Braccio  da  Montone,  i.  86,  362  ;  his 
aspirations  to  the  throne  of  Italy,  113 
note  I  ;  aids  Corrado  Trinci  against 
Pietro  Rasiglia,  122;  his  government 
of  Perugia,  123,  v.  498;  the  comrade 
and  opponent  of  Sforza,  159,  160 

Bramante,  ii.  5  ;  his  work  as  an  archi- 
tect, ii.  440,  iii.  8 1,  v.  505  ;  his  share 
in  S.  Peter's,  iii.  90,  398  ;  Michel- 
angelo's panegyric  of  his  plan,  92, 
428  ;  said  to  have  suggested  the  em- 
ployment of  Michelangelo  on  the 
Sistine  Chapel,  403 
Brancaleone,  Roman  senator  (1258),  ii. 

IS* 

Brantome,    describes    Cesare    Borgia's 
visit  to  the  French  Court,  i.  117  note  \ 
Bregni.  the,  at  Venice,  iii.  162 
Brescia,  Savonarola  at,  i.  508;   Sack  of, 
508,  ii.  380,  iii.  328 


INDEX. 


569 


Brevio,   Monsignor   Giovanni,  his  Nt, 

velle,  v.  60 ;   the  story  of  the  Dev 

and  his  wife,  compared  with  Machia 

velli's  and  Straparola's  versions,  103 

Brifonnet,   Bishop   of  St.    Malo,   mac 

Cardinal   by  Alexander   VI.,   L   53 

note    i,    566 ;     his     influence     wit 

Charles  VIII. ,  541 

Britti  (called   //   Cieco),  his  Incatena 

tura,  iv.  268  note  3 
Broccardo,     Antonio,     introduced     i 
Sperone's  Dialogues,  v.  256  note  I 
his  quarrel  with  Bembo,  256  note  i 
377  ;  his  death  said  to  have  been  has 
tened  by  the  calumnies  of  Aretino 
377  note  2,  381  note  i 
Broncone,  //,  name  of  a  club  at  Flo 
rence   formed   by  Lorenzo,  Duke   o 
Urbino,  iv.  397 

Bronzino,  Angelo,  his  portraits,  iii.  498 
(cp.  v.  82)  ;  coldness  of  his  frescoes 
and  allegories,  iii.  490 ;  character  of 
his  talent,  iv.  380;  mentioned  by 
Doni  as  scene-painter  at  a  representa- 
tion of  comedy  in  Florence,  v.  144 
note  4  ;  his  Serenata.  iv.  268 ;  hi? 
Capitoli,  v.  364  (cp.  iii.  499) 
Brugiantino,  V.,  turned  the  Decameron 

into  octave  stanzas,  iv.  249  note  \ 
Brunelleschi,  Filippo,  individuality  ol 
his  character,  ii.  5  ;  his  many-sided 
genius,  10;  a  friend  of  Niccolo  de' 
Niccoli's,  180;  his  work  as  an  archi- 
tect, 440,  v.  505  ;  builds  the  dome  of 
the  Cathedral  of  Florence,  iii.  67,  73 
(cp.  i.  562) ;  his  visit  to  Rome,  68 ; 
his  churches  of  S.  Lorenzo  and  S. 
Spirito  at  Florence,  73  (cp.  263) ; 
designs  the  Pitti  Palace,  73 ;  his  plans 
for  the  Casa  Medici  rejected,  76 :  his 
designs  in  competition  for  the  Bap- 
tistery Gates  at  Florence,  127 ;  re- 
signs in  favour  of  Ghiberti,  128  ;  faults 
of  his  model,  128;  his  study  of  perspec- 
tive, 225-,  his  criticism  of  Donatello's 
Christ,  233  ;  jest  played  by  him  on 
the  cabinet-maker  as  related  in  the 
novel  of  //  Grasso,  iv.  150  (cp.  253); 
his  ingegni  for  the  Florentine  festi- 
vals, 319 

Bruni,  Lionardo,  his  History  of  Flo- 
rence, i.  274,  ii  182  ;  its  style  and 
value,  i.  274 ;  account  of  him  by  Ves- 


Bruni,  Lionardo  ( Continued). 

pasianp,  275  ;  cited  to  show  the  un- 
reasoning admiration  of  antiquity  by 
the  Italian  scholars,  ii.  31  ;  a  scholar 
of  Giovanni  da  Ravenna,  100 ;  pa- 
tronised by  Salutato,  106,  183  ;  learns 
Greek  from  Chrysoloras,  1 10-112, 
183  j  his  letter  to  Poggio  upon  re- 
ceiving a  copy  of  Quintilian.  137; 
discovers  a  MS.  of  Cicero's  Letters, 
140  ;  his  testimony  to  Niccolo  de'  Nic- 
coli's judgment  of  style,  179;  story 
of  his  rise  to  fame.  182  ;  his  transla- 
tions from  the  Classics  and  other 
works,  184;  his  Italian  Lives  of  Pe- 
trarch and  Dante,  185,  iv.  235  ;  re- 
ceives the  honour  of  a  public  funeral, 
ii.  185 ;  made  Apostolic  Secretary, 
218;  his  quarrel  with  Niccoli,  243; 
his  Latin  play.  Polissena,  v.  no 
Bruno,  Giordano,  ii.  394,  v.  449;  his 
execution,  v.  478 ;  his  place  in  the 
history  of  thought,  484,  500,  518 
Brusati  Family,  the,  at  Brescia,  i.  145 
Budams,  ii.  391 
Buonacolsi,  Passerine,  murdered  by 

Luigi  Gonzaga.  i.  145  note  i 
Buonarroti,  Lodovico  (father  of  Michel- 
angelo), iii.  385,  387 
Buonarroti,  Michelangelo,  his  boyhood, 
iii.   385  ;  studies  under  Ghirlandajo, 
386,  404 ;   Michelangelo   and  Torri- 
giano,  386   note  2.  445 ;  effect  pro- 
duced by  Savonarola  upon  him,  491, 
509,  iii.  311,  344,  382,  388,  435  ;  one 
of  the  circle  gathered  round  Lorenzo 
de'  Medici,  ii.  322,  323,  iii.  263,  387, 
388,  435  ;  his  political  attitude  to  the 
Medici,  iii.  392-394 ;    fortifies  Sam- 
miniato  in  the  Siege  of  Florence,  393 
(cp.  i.    318),  414;  invited  to  Rome 
by  Julius  II.,  397 ;    suggests  carving 
the  headland  of  Sarzana  into  a  statue, 
401 ;  leaves  Rome  in  disgust  at  Ju- 
lius's treatment   of  liim,  401 ;  recon- 
ciled  to   him   at    Bologna,  402   (cp. 
397);  his  relations  to  Aretino,  426, 
v.  408;  the  last  years  of  his  life,  421, 
429,  432  (cp.  v.  519);  his  purity,  iii. 
432  ;  his  friendship  with  Vittoria  Co- 
lonna,  429,    433.    v.    294,    296;    his 
friendship  with  Tommaso   Cavalieri, 
429,  434  ;  his  death,  435  ;  his  great- 


INDEX. 


Buonarroti,  Michelangelo  (Continued). 
ness  in  maintaining  the  dignity  of  art 
amidst   the  general  decline  of  Italy, 

I?'.  343.  384  (CP-  v-  5);  the  sub' 
liinity  of  his  genius,  v.  116 ;  his  genius 
never  immature,  iii.  387 ;  its  many- 
sidedness,  ii.  10;  the  controversy  be- 
tween his  admirers  and  detractors,  iii. 
343  note  i,  419,  424  note  i,  435,  494 ; 
mistake  of  his  successors  in  imitating 
his  mannerisms  and  extravagances,  iii. 
493  ;  number  of  his  unfinished  works, 
420 ;  their  want  of  finish  not  inten- 
tional. 420;  comparison  between 
Michelangelo,  Dante,  and  Machia- 
velli,  i.  318,  iii.  395  ;  between  Mi- 
chelangelo and  Beethoven,  iii  386, 
410,  413,  418,  432  ;  between  Michel- 
angelo and  Milton,  388  ;  his  peculi- 
arity as  an  architect,  86,  87:  the 
Sagrestia  Nuova,  S.  Lorenzo,  86  ;  the 
Laurent ian  Library,  87,  393 ;  the 
dome  of  S.  Peter's.  88,  398,  428;  his 
judgment  of  Bramante's  design  for  S. 
Peter's,  92,  428;  his  own  plans,  92; 
his  four  years'  work  on  the  fa9ade  of 
S.  Lorenzo,  413;  his  aim  in  archi- 
tecture, v.  505  ;  his  tombs  of  the 
Medici,  i.  314,  319,  iii.  354,  377  note 
2.  393,  415-419,  420;  his  statues  at 
Florence,  ii.  440,  iii.  391,  395  note 
2  ;  his  work  on  the  shrine  of  S.  Dom- 
inic, Bologna,  131,  389;  his  Pieta  in 
S.  Peter's,  389 ;  his  scheme  for  the 
Mausoleum  of  Julius  II.,  398-400; 
Michelangelo  not  responsible  for  the 
decadence  of  Italian  sculpture,  173; 
the  (destroyed)  statue  of  Julius  II.  at 
Bologna,  402  (cp.  397) ;  the  frescoes 
of  the  Sistine  Chapel,  344,  399,  407- 
410  ;  their  bad  condition,  426  note  2; 
the  true  story  of  Michelangelo's  work 
on  them,  404-407  ;  difference  between 
his  creations  and  those  of  a  Greek, 
410-412  ;  his  treatment  of  the  story 
of  the  creation  of  Eve,  118  note  2,  | 
130.  131  >  the  Last  Judgment,  346,  ! 
422  ;  its  merits  and  defects,  423-425  v  ! 
contemporary  disapproval  on  account* 
of  the  nudity  of  the  figures,  425  ;  Mi- 
chelangelo's criticisms  of  Perugino 
and  Francia,  268  note  i,  386  note  2 ; 
his  indebtedness  to  Signorelli,  279; 


Buonarroti,  Michelangelo  (Continued}. 
influenced  by  Dante,  283  note  2  :  his 
Leda  and  the  Swan,  illustrating  his 
treatment  of  the  antique,  291  ;  his  ac- 
count of  Signorelli's  bad  treatment  of 
him,  293  note  i ;  one  of  the  four 
great  painters  by  whom  the  Renais- 
sance was  fully  expressed,  312,  346; 
his  reproach  of  Lionardo  da  Vinci's 
dislike  of  finishing,  323,  386  note  2  ; 
contrast  of  his  genius  and  life  with 
those  of  the  other  great  painters,  342; 
the  cartoon  for  The  Battle  of  Pisa, 
395 ;  contrast  between  Michelangelo 
and  Raphael,  412  ;  his  genius  not  that 
of  a  painter,  412  note  i ;  his  sonnet  to 
Giovanni  da  Pistoja,  quoted,  ^o^note  I ; 
one  of  his  sonnets  to  VittoriaColonna, 
quoted,  409;  the  madrigal  on  Florence, 
translated,  392 ;  lines  placed  by  Mi- 
chelangelo in  the  mouth  of  his  Night, 
translated,  iii.  394;  the  Elegy  on  his  fa- 
ther's death,  iv.  321  note  i,  v.  295;  the 
sonnet  on  the  death  of  Mancina  Faust- 
ina, iv.  226.  (For  the  Poems  see  also 
Appendix  ii.  of  vol.  iii.,  and  Appendix 
vi.  of  vol.  iv.,  and  cp.  v.  296.) 

Buonarroti,  Michelangelo  (the  younger), 
his  Tancia  and  Flera,  v.  226 

Buondelmonte  dei  Buondtlmonti,  i.  74, 
210  note  2 

Buondelmonti,  Vaggia  de',  the  wife  of 
Poggio,  ii.  245 

Buonucmini,  name  of  magistrates  in 
some  Italian  cities,  i.  135  ;  at  Flo- 
rence, 226 

Burchard,  value  of  his  testimony,  i.  388 
note  i;  his  evidence  that  Alexander  VI. 
died  of  fever,  428,  429  ;  on  the  confes- 
sions said  to  have  been  made  by  Savon- 
arola during  his  torture,  534  note  I 

Burchiello,  II,  facts  of  his  life,  iv.  259  ; 
character  of  his  poems,  260 ;  Doni's 
edition  of  them,  v.  92 

Bureaucracy,  invention  of  a  system  of 
bureaucracy  by  Gian  Galeazzo,  i.  142 

Burigozzo,  his  Chronicles  of  Milan, 
quoted,  i.  253 

Burlamacchi,  his  account  of  Lorenzo  de' 
Medici's  dying  interview  with  Sav- 
onarola, i.  523  note  i 

Byzantium,  the  Byzantine  supremacy  in 
Italy,  i.  33,  43,  48,  50 


INDEX. 


571 


CABBALA,  THE,  ii.  334 

V Cacciaguida,    his    speech   in    the 

Paradiso  quoted,  i.  73  note  i 

Cademosto,  his  Novelle,  v.  60 

Caffagiolo,  the  villa  of  Lorenzo  de 
Medici,  ii.  322 

Cajano,  Lorenzo  de  Medici's  villa,  ii. 
322,  463 

Calcagnini,  Celio,  teaches  in  the  High 
School  of  Ferrara,  ii.  427,  506 ;  his 
epigram  on  Raphael's  death,  438 ;  his 
Latin  poems.  497 

Calendario,  Filippo,  influenced  by  Nic- 
cola  Pisano,  iii.  123;  his  work  at 
Venice,  123 

Caliari.  the,  Venetian  painters,  iii.  371 

Calixtus  II.,  his  sanction  of  the  Chroni- 
cle of  Turpin,  iv.  432,  438 

Calixtus  III.,  i.  380;  his  contempt  for 
classical  learning,  ii.  357 

Calliertji,  Zacharias,  a  Greek  printer  at 
Venice,  ii.  386;  works  for  Agostino 
Chigi  at  Rome,  405  note  i 

Callistus,  Andronicus,  the  teacher  of 
Poliziano,  ii.  248,  346  ;  one  of  the 
first  Greeks  who  visited  France,  248 

Calvi,  Marco  Fabio,  translates  Vitru- 
vius  for  Raphael,  ii.436,  iii.  94  note  i; 
his  death,  ii.  444 ;  his  nobility  of 
character,  523;  aids  Raphael  with 
notes  on  Greek  Philosophy  for  the 
School  of  Athens,  iii.  335 

Calvo,  Francesco,  the  Milanese  pub- 
lisher of  the  fraudulent  version  of 
Berni's  rifacimento  of  the  Orlando 
Innamorato,  v.  374;  Aretino's  cor- 
respondence with  him  on  the  subject, 

375.  378/38o 

Camaldolese,  II.     (See  Traversari.) 

Cambray,  League  of,  i.  214,  220,  289, 
434,  ii.  16,  379,  441 

Gamers,  Julianus,  his  suicide  during  the 
Sack  of  Rome,  ii.  444 

Cammelli  of  Pistoja,  v.  282  note  3 

Camonica,  Val,  the  witches  of,  i.  402 
note  i,  v.  316,  346  notes  i  and  2, 
347  ;  Teutonic  character  assumed  by 
witchcraft  in  this  district,  347 

Campaldino,  battle  of,  iv.  51;  Dante 
present,  71 

Campanella,  Tommaso,  ii.  394,  v.  448, 
449;  his  imprisonment,  v.  478;  his 
relations  to  Telesio,  483  ;  his  impor- 


Campanella,  Tommaso  (Continued). 
tance  in  the  history  of  thought,  483, 
500,  518;  three  sonnets  of  his  trans- 
lated, 481,  482,  483 

Campano,  Gian  Antonio,  his  descrip- 
tion of  Demetrius  Chalcondylas'  teach- 
ing, ii.  249 

Campi,  the,  painters  at  Cremona,  iii. 
503. 

Campione,  Bonino  and  Matteo  da, 
sculptors  of  the  shrine  of  S.  Augustine 
in  the  Duomo,  Pavia,  iii.  123 

Campo,  Antonio,  his  Historia  di  Cre- 
mona cited  for  a  story  of  Gabrino 
Tondulo,  i.  463  note  i 

Can  Grande.  ( See  Scala,  Can  Grande, 
della.) 

Canale,  Carlo,  husband  of  Vannzza  Ca- 
tanei,  i.  417  ;  Poliziano's  Orfeo  dedi- 
cated to  him,  iv.  411 

Cane,  Facino,  leader  of  Condottieri,  i. 

ISO,  ISI 

Canetoli,  story  of  the,  i.  124 

Cani>io,  Egidio,  General  of  the  Augus- 
tines,  ii.  409;  made  Cardinal  and 
Legate  at  the  Court  of  Spain,  416; 
his  knowledge  of  languages,  417 

Canossa,  Castle  of,  iv.  494 ;  the  House 
of,  i.  57  ;  claim  of  the  Buonarroti  lam- 
ily  to  descent  from  them,  iii.  385 

Cantatori  in  Banco.,  professional  min- 
strels in  mediaeval  Italy,  iv.  257 

Canti  Carnascialeschi,  the.  i.  476,  505 ; 
collection  of  them  by  II  Lasca,  iv. 
388,  v.  79 ;  utilized  by  Lorenzo 
de'  Medici,  iv.  388,  v.  355;  the 
'  Triumph  of  Death '  described  by 
Vasari,  iv.  393-395,  v.  114;  the 
Trionfo  del  Vagtio,  iv.  392  note  I  : 
translated,  392  note  \  :  connection  of 
the  Capitoli  with  the  Carnival  Songs, 

v.  355,  366 

Contort  di  Piazza,  professional  min- 
strels in  mediaeval  Italy,  iv.  257 

Canzune,  a  name  of  the  Rispetti  in  Si- 
cily, iv.  264,  265 

Capanna,  Puccio,  the  scholar  of  Giotto, 
iii.  197 

Capdlo,  Paolo  (Venetian  ambassador), 
cited  for  the  murders  in  Rome  under 
Alexander  VI.,  i.  414 ;  for  the  murder 
of  Perotto  by  Cesare  Borgia,  426 
note  I 


572 


INDEX. 


Capilupi,  Lelio,  a  member  of  the 
Academy  of  the  Vignajuoli  at  Rome, 
v-  357  >  a  writer  of  Latin  verse,  ii. 
506 

Capitoli,  the,  of  Tuscan  origin,  v.  355  ; 
their  relation  to  the  Canti  Carna- 
scialeschi,  355  ;  their  antiquity,  ple- 
beian character,  and  obscenity,  477 
note  i,  ii.  521,  v.  355,  365,  366 ;  Ber- 
ni's  new  use  of  them,  v.  356 

Caporali,  Cesare,  his  Satiric  Poems,  v. 

38i 

Capponi,  Agostino,  conspiracy  of,  i. 
314;  Ginn,  the  chronicler  of  the 
Ciompo  Rebellion,  265  note  i,  iv.  176 ; 
Nicolo,  Gonfaloniere  at  Florence,  222  ! 
note  i,  232,  284,  289,  292,  536 ; 
Piero,  his  resistance  to  the  demands 
of  Charles  VIII.,  563 

Caj  tain  of  the  People,  name  of  the  su- 
preme magistrate  in  some  Italian 
cities,  i.  35  ,71  ;  often  became  tyrant, 
7S»  77)  84,  112,  156  ;  at  Florence,  224 

Caracci,  the,  iii.  496 

Caracciolo,  his  De  Varietate  Fortunes 
cited,  L  520  notes  2  and  3 

Caravaggio,  defeat  of  the  Venetians  at, 

i-   !55 

Cardan,  Jerome,  v.  82;  autobiography 
of,  ii.  36 

Cardona,  captain  of  the  Florentine 
forces,  i.  157  note  I 

Carducci,  Francesco,  Gonfaloniere  of 
Florence,  his  part  in  the  Siege  of 
Florence,  i.  284,  288,  289,  536 

Careggi,  the  villa  of  Lorenzo  de'  Med- 
ici, ii.  322,  460,  iv.  383.  415 

Cariani,  said  to  have  painted  pictures 
commonly  assigned  to  Giorgione,  iii. 
368  note  i 

Cariteo,  of  Naples,  v.  282  note  3 

Carmagnuola,  Francesco  Bussoni,  called  ; 
II,  story  of,  i.  161,  362,  v.  118 

Carmina   Burana,    the,    i.  9 ;  many  of  i 
them  of  French  origin,   iv.  9  ;  their  | 
nature,  108  ;  some  of  them  pastorals,  i 
156;  undeveloped  Maccaronic  poems 
contained  among  them,  327  • 

Carnesecchi,  Pietro,  his  friendship  with  | 
Vittoria  Colonna,  v.  292  ;  burned  for 
heresy,  292,  478 

Caro,  Annibale,  story  qf  his  life,  v.  283; 
his  Letters,  283 ;  his  translation  of 


Caro,  Annibale  (Continued",. 

Daphnis  and  Chloe.  283  ;  his  Acad- 
emical exercises :  the  Dicer ia  de"  Nasi, 
"•  367,  526,  v.  284 ;  the  Ficheide,  v. 
284,  365  note  i ;  his  translation  of  the 
sEneid,  284  ;  his  literary  style,  284 ; 
his  Italian  Poems,  284;  the  quarrel 
with  Castelvetro,  285 ;  the  sonnets 
produced  by  the  occasion,  381  ;  he  or 
one  of  his  friends  said  to  have  de- 
nounctcl  Castelvetro  to  the  Inquisition, 
286 ;  his  correspondence  with  Aretino, 
410  note  i 

Carpaccio,  Vittore,  hi.  362 ;  his  pic- 
tures for  the  Scuola  of  S.  Ursula  at 
Venice,  363,  v.  54 

Carpi,  connection  of  Aldo  Manuzio  with, 

"•  302.  375 

Carrara  Family,  the,  at  Padua,  how 
they  became  tj  rants,  i.  112  ;  number 
of  violent  deaths  among  them  in  one 
century,  120 ;  driven  from  Padua 
by  Gian  Galeazzo  Visconti,  145,  146, 
return,  149 

Carrara,  Francesco  da,  i.  146,  149 

Carroccio,  the,  i.  58 

Casal  Maggiore,  destruction  of  the  Vene- 
tian fleet  at,  i.  155 

Casanova,  dies  of  the  plague  during  the 
Sack  of  Rome,  ii.  444 

Castagno,  Andrea  del,  harsh  realism  of 
his  work,  iii.  232 

Castellani.  Castellano,  writer  of  Sacre 
Rapprescntazioni,  iv.  320,  324,  338 

Castelvetro,  Lodovico,  his  quarrel  with 
Annibale  Caro,  v.  285 ;  denounced 
by  his  enemies  to  the  Inquisition, 
286  ;  escapes,  is  condemned  in  contu- 
maciam,  and  dies  in  exile,  286 ;  his 
chief  work,  a  translation  of  the  Poet~ 
ics,  287 

Castiglione,  Baldassare,  i.  181  ;  the  // 
Cortigtano^  183-189,  192,  457,  ii. 
37,  393- 4",  420,  v.  14,  265,  518; 

?uoted  for  Castiglione's  theory  of 
talian  style,  v.  257  note  i,  266-270; 
on  the  physical  exercises  befitting  a 
gentleman,  ii.  29,  419;  its  subject 
treated  from  an  se-t helical  rather  tlian 
a  moral  point  of  view,  v.  430  ;  Raph- 
ael's portrait  of  him,  ii.  28,  421,  v. 
522  ;  ambassador  of  Mantua  and  Fer- 
rara  at  Rome,  ii.  405,  420 ;  assists 


INDEX. 


573 


Castiglione,  Baldassare  {Continued). 
Raphael  in  his  letter  on  the  explora- 
tion of  Rome,  419  ;  employed  by  Jul- 
ius II.  at  Urbino,  419  ;  his  mission 
to  England,  420  ;  his  life  at  Rome, 
420  ;  sent  by  Clement  VII.  as  Nuncio 
to  Madrid,  421;  his  poem  on  the 
statue  of  Ariadne,  431  note  i,  432, 
496  ;  his  epigram  on  Raphael's  death, 
438 ;  his  Latin  verses — their  interest, 
490-493  ;  his  flatteries  of  Julius  II. 
and  Leo  X.,  493  ;  his  eclogue,  the 
Tirsi^  v.  222  ;  his  Mantuan  origin 
illustrating  the  loss  of  intellectual 
supremacy  by  Florence,  ii.  506 ;  his 
letter  describing  the  representation 
of  the  Calandra  at  Urbino,  v.  144 
note  i,  146 

Castiglione,  Francesco,  i.  177 

Castracane,  Castruccio,  tyrant  of  Lucca, 
i.  75  note  i,  133  ;  his  life  by  Machia- 
velli,  76  note  I,  112,  ii.  37  :  intro- 
duced in  the  frescoes  in  the  Campo 
Santo,  Pisa,  iii.  203 

Castro,  Duke  of  (son  of  Paul  III.). 
(See  Farnese,  Pier  Luigi.) 

Catanei,  Vanozza,  the  mistress  of  Alex- 
ander VI.,  i.  417  ;  iv  411  ;  takes  to 
religion  in  her  old  age,  424  ;  her  in- 
terview with  Alexander  after  the 
murder  of  the  Duke  ofGandia,  425 

Catapans,  i.  35 

Catasto,  the,  or  schedule  of  properties, 
introduced  by  Frederick  II.,  i.  105 

Catena,  Vincenzo,  Venetian  painter,  iii. 
362 

Catenati,  the,  an  Academy  at  Macer- 
ata,  ii.  366 

Cathari,  the,  an  heretical  sect,  i.  9,  iv. 
109 

Catherine  de'  Medici.  (See  Medici, 
Catherine  de'.) 

Catherine,  S.  (of  Siena),  beauty  of  style 
in  her  letters,  iv.  173 

Catini,  Monte,  battle  of.  i.  112 

Cavalca,  Domenico,  his  Leggende  dei 
Santi  Pai/ri,  iv.  131  ;  his  Poems,  164 

Cavalcabo  Family,  the  slaughter  of 
them  by  Tondulo,  i.  120  ;  overthrown 
by  the  Visconti,  145  ;  reappear  after 
the  death  of  Gian  Galeazzo.  150 

Cavalcanti,  Giovanni,  his  Florentine 
Histories,  iv.  176 


Cavalcanti,  Guido,  his  metaphysical 
Odes,  iv.  64  ;  his  Ballate,  65 

Cavalieri,  Tommaso,  his  friendship 
with  Michelangelo,  iii.  429,  434 

Cecchi,  Gianmaria,  his  Sacra  Rappre- 
sentazione,  The  Elevation  of  the 
Cross,  iv.  322  note  i,  324,  357  ;  other 
plays  of  his  written  with  a  didactic 
purpose,  v.  187  note  2  ;  writes  a  com- 
mentary on  a  Sonnet  of  Berni's,  363 ; 
his  Comedies,  123,  141,  181,  186  ;  his 
veneration  for  Ariosto,  156  note  i, 
187  ;  his  Parse,  188 

Cellant,  Countess  of,  Bandello's  Novella 
upon  her  tragedy,  v.  54 

Cellini,  Benvenuto,  i.  170  note  i,  325  ; 
quoted  to  illustrate  the  Italian  idea 
of  the  sanctity  of  the  Popes,  462,  iii. 
471 ;  his  life  typical  of  the  age,  492, 

i"-  385,  439»  479»  iv-  385  (CP-  v- 
517) ;  his  fits  of  religious  enthusiasm 
— their  sirce-ity,  492,  ii.  18,  iii.  450, 
468-471 ;  his  autobiography,  ii.  36  : 
may  be  compared  to  a  novel,  v.  1 20 ; 
his  criticisms  on  Bandinelli,  iii.  173, 
477 ;  his  admiration  of  Michelan- 
gelo, 396,  445,  494 ;  invited  by  Tor- 
rigiano  to  accompany  him  to  Eng- 
land, \\\  ;  his  account  of  Torrigiano, 
445  ;  sets  off  to  Rome,  446  ;  returns 
to  Florence,  but  goes  back  to  Rome 
in  consequence  of  a  quarrel,  447 ;  his 
homicides  and  brutal  behaviour,  447- 
449,  458 ;  returns  to  Rome,  451 ;  his 
description  of  life  there,  452  ;  his  ex- 
ploits at  the  Siege  of  Rome,  455 ; 
miracles  and  wonders  related  by  him, 
456 ;  domestic  affection  and  light- 
heartedness,  456-458 ;  incantation 
witnessed  by  him  in  the  Colosseum, 
460-462,  v.  82,  346  notes  i  and  2 ; 
his  journey  to  France,  iii.  463,  v. 
239 ;  visits  of  Francis  I.  to  him,  iii. 
443  note  i,  474  note  i ;  returns  to 
Rome  and  is  thrown  into  prison,  465  ; 
embavors  to  escape,  466;  given  up 
by  Cardinal  Cornaro,  466 ;  attempt 
to  murder  him,  467 ;  released  from 
prison  and  summoned  to  the  Court  of 
Francis  I.,  472;  his  stay  in  France, 
473-475  ;  parallelism  of  Cellini, 
Machiavelli,  and  Aretino,  479 ;  his 
Capitolo  del  Carcere  cited  in  illus- 


574 


INDEX. 


Cellini,  Benvenuto  (Continued). 

tration  of  the  general  use  of  the  terza 
rima  during  the  sixteenth  century,  iv. 
172,  v.  367  note  2  ;  his  statue  of  Per- 
seus, iii.  176,  438,  455,  470,  478; 
purely  physical  beauty  of  his  statue*, 
455  ;  scarcity  of  his  works  in  gold 
and  jewels.,  437,  479 ;  character  of  his 
work  in  metals,  v.  229 

Cenci,  the,  a  novella  made  of  their 
trial,  v.  54 

Cendrata,  Taddea,  wife  of  Guarino  da 
Verona,  ii  301 

Cene  dalla  Chitarra,  his  satirical  Poems 
on  the  Months  in  parody  of  Folgore 
da  Gemignano,  iv.  54  note  2,  56  note  i 

Cennini,  Bernardo,  the  first  Italian 
printer  who  cast  his  own  type,  ii.  369 

Censorship  of  the  Press,  established  by 
Alexander  VI.,  i.  411,  416,  ii.  359, 

371 

Cento  Novell*,  the,  character  given  in 
them  of  the  Court  of  Frederick  II., 
iv.  21  ;  illustrate  the  origin  of  Italian 
prose,  36 

Cerchi,  the,  at  Florence,  i.   210  note  2 

Cesena,  massacre  of.  i.  82 

Ccsi,  Angelo,  his  sufferings  in  the  Sack 
of  Rome,  ii.  444 

Ceite,  the  Bishop  of,  poisoned  by  Cesare 
Borgia,  i.  42  S 

Chalcondylas,  Demetrius,  teaches  Greek 
at  Perugia,  ii.  249;  hisedition  of Iso- 
crates,  376;  aids  in  the  publication  of 
the  first  edition  of  Homer,  376 

Chancellors  of  Florence,  list  of  illustri- 
ous, ii.  106  note  3 

Charles  I.,  of  Sicily  (Charles  of  Anjou), 
summoned  by  the  Popes  into  Italy, 
i.  75  (cp.  539  note  i);  visits  Cima- 
bue's  studio,  ii.  187 ;  his  legislation 
for  the  University  of  Naples,  1 1 7 

Charles  IV.,  the  Emperor,  i.  100 ; 
grants  diplomas  to  the  Universities  of 
Florence,  Siena,  Arezzo,  Lucca,  Pa- 
via,  ii.  118 

Charles  V.,  the  Emperor,  i.  50;  gov- 
erned Italy  in  his  dynastic  interests, 
98,  100;  his  project  of  suppressing  the 
Papal  State,  4.45  ;  the  final  conqueror 
of  Italy,  584;  Charles  V.  at  Rome, 
iii.  4>8 ;  story  that  he  hastened  the 
Marquis  of  Pescara's  death  by  poison, 


Charles  V.  (Continued). 
v.  291  ;  his  patronage  of  Aretlno,  400, 
404 

Charles  VIII.,  of  France,  invades  Italy, 
i.  90,  113  note  i,  164,  237,  434,  525, 
539;  popular  outbreak  at  liis  entry 
into  Pisa,  343,  561  ;  his  accession, 
539  ;  his  claims  on  Naples,  539,  542  : 
his  character  by  Guicciardini  and 
Comines,  540 ;  prepares  for  his  expe- 
dition, 542 ;  amount  of  his  forces, 
554;  captures  Sarzana,  559;  enters 
Florence,  561 ;  enters  Rome,  564 ; 
marches  to  Naples,  566,  ii.  363; 
forced  by  the  League  of  Venice  to  re- 
treat, i.  576,  579  ;  wins  the  battle  of 
Fornovo,  580;  signs  peace  at  Ver- 
celli,  581  ;  effects  of  his  conquest, 
582-586 

Charles,  the  Great,  crowned  emperor, 
i.  50,  iv.  438  ;  his  pact  with  Rome, 
94  ;  his  character  in  the  romances  of 
Roland,  iv.  435,  445,  469 

Charles  of  Durazzo,  v.  198 

Chiaravalle,  the  Certosa  of,  iii.  42,  66 

Chiavelli,  the,  of  Fabriano,  i.  in  ;  mas- 
sacre of  them,  121,  l6S  note  i,  397 
note  2 

Chigi,  Agostino,  the  Roman  banker, 
couplet  put  up  by  him  at  the  entrance 
of  Leo  X.,  i.  435  ;  his  banquets,  437  ; 
his  Greek  Pie»s,  ii.  405  ;  his  enter- 
tainments of  the  Roman  Academy, 
409 ;  builds  the  Villa  Farnesina,  iii. 
84  ;  his  patronage  of  Aretino,  v.  386 

Chivalry,  alien  to  the  Italian  temper,  i. 
359,  482,  iv.  6.  27,  44.  60,  73,  v.  13 ; 
the  ideal  of  chivalrous  love,  iv.  59 

Christ,  said  to  have  been  proclaimed 
King  of  Florence  by  Savonarola,  i. 
222,  526,  iii.  214  note  2,  308;  diffi- 
culty of  representing  Christ  by  sculp- 
ture, iii.  1 6- 1 8 

Christianity,  influence  of,  in  producing 
the  modern  temper  of  mind.  ii.  19; 
contrast  between  Greek  and  Christian 
religious  notions,  iii.  12-21,  410- 
412  ;  ascetic  nature  of  Christianity, 
24  note  i 

Chronicon  Venetum,  cited  for  the  cru 
elty  of  Ferdinand  of  Aragon.  i.  572 
note  i  ;  for  the  good  will  of  the  com- 
mon people  to  the  French,  583  note  2 


INDEX. 


575 


Chrysoloras,  John,  teaches  Filelfo 
Greek,  ii.  268 ;  marries  his  daughter 
Theodora  to  Filelfo,  268 
Chrysoloras,  Manuel,  summoned  to 
Florence  as  Greek  Professor,  ii.  108- 
no;  obliged  to  leave  by  Niccolo's 
opposition,  182 ;  author  of  the  Erote- 
mata,  376 

Church,  assassination  of  Italian  tyrants 
frequently    undertaken    in   churches, 
i.  168  note  i,  397  note  2 
Church,  the,  compromises  made  by  the 
Church  with  the  world,  iii.  26  ;  oppo- 
sition of  the  medieval  Church  to  po 
etry,  ii.  60,  iv.  8l 

Cibo,    Franceschetto  (son  of  Innocen 

VIII.),    i.    114,     404;    marries    th 

daughter  of  Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  54 

Cibo.      Giambattista.     (See     Innocen 

VIII.) 

Cicala,    Milliardo    (treasurer   of  Sixtu. 

IV.),  his  quarrel  with  Filelfo.  ii.  286 

Cicero,    Petrarch's  love  of  Cicero,    ii 

73 ;  Loss  of  the  '  De  Gloria,'  73;  in 

fluence  of  Cicero  in  the  Renaissance 

.527 

Ciceronianism,   the,  of  the  Humanists, 

H.  108,  414,  528 
Cima  da  Conegliano,  iii.  362 
Cimabue,    Giovanni,  story  of  his  Ma- 
donna which  was  carried  in  triumph 
to  S.  Maria  Novella,  iii.  n,  187  note 
I ;  character  of  the  picture,  188  ;  story 
of  his  rinding  Giotto,  as  a  child,  draw- 
ing, 190,  191  ;  his  frescoes  at  Assisi, 
196 

Cino  da  Pistoja,  character  of  his  poems, 
iv.  65  ;  his  influence  on  Petrarch,  94 
Cinthio  (Giovanbattista  Giraldi),  his 
Ecatommithi,  v.  60,  78  :  cited  for  the 
story  of  the  poisoning  of  Alexander 
VI.,  i.  429,  note  I,  v.  106  :  their  style, 
103  :  use  made  of  them  by  the  Eliza- 
bethan dramatists,  104  :  their  ethical 
tendency,  105 :  plan  of  the  work, 
105  :  description  of  the  Sack  of  Rome 
forming  the  Introduction,  522;  his 
Tragedies,  131  note  2;  the  Dedication 
of  the  Orbecche  cited  for  Italian  con- 
ceptions of  tragedy,  127  note  i,  132 
note  I  ;  analysis  of  the  Orbecche,  131 
Ciompi  Rebellion,  the,  at  Florence,  i. 
221,  227,  iv.  in,  150;  Gino  Cap- 


j  Ciompi  Rebellion  (Continued). 

poni's  Chronicle  of,  i.  265  note  i,  iv. 
176 

,  Cione,  Benci  di,  architect  of  the  Loggia 
I      dei  Lanzi  at  Florence,  Hi.  125 
Cione,  Bernardo  di  (brother  of  Andrea 

Orcagna),  iii.  124 

I  Ciriaco  of  Ancona,  his  zeal  in  collecting 
antiquities,  ii.  155,  429,  iii.  236,  272  ; 
suspected  of  forgery,  ii.  156 
Citizens,  decline  in  the  number  of  per- 
sons possessing  the  rights  of  citizen- 
ship at  the  Renaissance,  i.  546 
Citizenship,  Italian  theories  of,  i.  195 
Ciuffagni,  Bernardo,  his  bas-reliefs  in  S. 

Francesco,  Rimini,  iii.  162 
Ciullo  d'Alcamo,  his  Tenzone — the  cha- 
racter of  its  metre,  iv.  24  note  1,25  : 
shows  a  genuinely  popular  feeling,  26, 

.4? 
Crvidale,  Ludus  C/iristi  acted  there  in 

1298  and  1303,  iv.  15,  307 
Civitale,  Matteo,  his  work  as  a  sculptor 
in   Italian   churches,   iii.    78  note  i ; 
purity  and  delicacy  of  his  work,  152  ; 
his  monuments,    &c.,    at   Lucca,    ii. 
229,  iii.  157 
Clarence,  Duke  of.  his  marriage   with 

Violante  Visconti,  i.  137 
Classical  writers,  the,  influence  of,  on 
the  Italians,  i.  197  note  i,  250  note  r, 
^64 ;  on  Columbus  and  Copernicus, 
ii.  19;  present  tendency  to  restrict 
the  use  of  the  classics  in  education, 
537-540 

Clement  II.,  i.  59 
Clement  V..  founds  the  High  School  at 

Perugia,  ii.  117 

Clement  VI.,  i.  135  ;  gives  charters  to 
the  Universities  of  Pisa  and  Florence, 
ii.  118 

Element  VII.,  commissions  Machiavelli 
to  write  the  History  of  Florence,  i. 
327 ;  the  conspiracy  against  him,  314 ; 
ii.  366,  v.  239;  his  patronage  of 
scholars,  ii.  404:  advances  Giovio, 
Vida,  and  Giberti  in  the  Church,  402- 
417;  sends  Castiglione  to  Madrid, 
421 ;  his  election  to  the  papacy,  i. 
443  ;  his  conduct  during  the  Sack  of 
Rome,  444  ;  employs  the  troops  which 
had  sacked  Rome  against  Florence, 
283,  446 ;  puts  Guicciardini  in  com- 


576 


INDEX. 


Clement  VII.  (Continued). 

mand  of  Florence  after  the  siege,  298; 
makes  Guicciardini  Lieutenant-Gen- 
eral  of  the  Papal  army,  297 ;  his 
management  of  Florence  in  the  Me- 
dicean  interest,  222,  277,  285  ;  said 
by  Pitti  to  have  wished  to  give  Flo- 
rence a  liberal  government,  288 
note  I ;  Mucaulay's  account  of  him 
erroneous,  320;  correctness  of  the 
character  of  him  given  by  Berni's 
Sonnet,  443  note  i,  v.  368;  Aretino's 
attacks  on  him,  v.  391,  392,  402  note 
I ;  absolves  Cellini  for  stealing  gold 
given  him  to  melt  down,  iii.  465 

Cleomade's  (an  old  French  romance), 
quoted  to  illustrate  the  gaiety  of  medi- 
eval Florence,  iv.  50 

Cocaius,  Merlinus.     (See  Folengo.) 

Coccio,  Marco  Antonio  (Sabellicus),  a 
member  of  the  Roman  Academy,  ii. 
361 ;  of  the  Aldine  Academy,  387  ; 
his  account  of  the  representations  of 
Plautus  and  Terence  by  the  Roman 
Academy,  v.  138  note  3 

Coliseum  Passion,  the,  question  of  the 
date  of  its  first  representation,  iv.  310; 
suppressed  by  Paul  III.,  310  note  i 

Colle,  paper  factor)'  of,  ii.  371 

Collenuccio,  Pandolfo,  his  version  of 
the  Amphitryon,  v.  140 

Colleoni  Family,  the,  at  Bergamo,  i.  150 

Colleoni,  Bartolommeo,  i.  170  note  i; 
his  statue  at  Venice,  ii.  39,  iii.  143 ; 
description  of  him  by  Spino,  iii.  144; 
monument  erected  by  him  to  his 
daughter  Medea,  165;  his  daughter 
Cassandra  married  to  Nicol6  da  Cor- 
regio,  v.  139  note  3 

Colocci,  Angelo,  secretary  of  Leo  X. , 
ii.  409 ;  his  losses  in  the  Sack  of 
Rome,  444 

Colonna,  the  house  of :  contest  of  the 
Colonnesi  with  Cesare  Borgia,  i.  349; 
their  rise  to  power,  375  ;  destroyed  by 
Alexander  VI.,  413;  friendly  to  the 
French,  551 

—  Giovanni,  the  friend  of  Petrarch, 
ii.  149 :  Fabrizio,  the  father  of  ViC- 
toria  Colonna,  v.  289:  Sciarra.  i.  77: 
Stefano,  disloyal  to  Florence,  284 : 
Vittoria,  her  married  life,  v.  289  ;  her 
virtues  and  genius,  292,  293 ;  the  so- 


Colonna,  Giovanni  (Continued). 

ciety  gathered  round  her,  292 ;  her 
leaning  to  the  Reformation,  292  note 
I ;  Flaminio's  Elegy  on  her  death,  ii. 
503  ;  her  friendship  with  Michel- 
angelo, iii.  429,  433,  v.  294,  296 ;  her 
correspondence  with  Aretino,  y.  407, 
408,  416  ;  the  Rime,  294  :  (I)  the  son- 
nets on  the  death  of  her  husband  ; 
genuineness  of  their  feeling,  294  :  (2) 
the  sonnets  on  religious  subjects,  295 

Colonna,  Egidio,  his  De  Jfegimitie 
Principum  translated  into  Italian,  iv. 

35.  »3«> 

Colonna,  Francesco,  author  of  the  Hyp- 
nerotomachla,  iv.  219;  Maccaronic 
dialect  (lingua  pedantesca)  of  the 
work,  219,  238,  v.  328 ;  its  illustra- 
tions erroneously  ascribed  to  Raphael, 
iv.  221  note  I  ;  its  historical  value, 
221,  225,  227,  229-232;  analysed, 
222-225  >  *ts  I3215'3  of  reality,  227- 
229  ;  its  imaginativeness,  232 

Columbus  discovers  America,  i.  15,  29, 
411 ;  question  of  his  indebtedness  for 
the  discovery  to  classical  writers,  ii.  19 

Comet,  a  comet  supposed  by  Gian  Gale- 
azzo  to  foreshow  his  death,  i.  149 

Comines,  Philip  de,  his  descriptions  of 
Siena  and  Venice,  i.  207  note  2,  214 
note  i  ;  praises  Venice  for  piety,  475 
note  I  ;  on  the  humanity  of  the  Italian 
peasants,  478  note  2  ;  his  character  of 
Charles  VIII.,  541;  quoted  for  the 
popular  belief  that  Charles'  invasion 
was  guided  by  Providence,  553  note 
I  :  for  the  expense  of  the  inva  ion, 
553  note  2 :  for  Charles'  want  of 
money,  563  note  i  :  on  the  avarice  of 
Ferdinand  of  Aragon,  571  note  2;  liis 
character  of  Ferdinand  and  Alfonso 
II.,  572;  his  account  of  the  communi- 
cation of  the  news  of  the  Venetian 
League,  578  ;  his  witness  to  the  bru- 
tality and  avarice  of  the  French  in  the 
invasion,  583  note  2 

Commedia  delf  Anima  (old  Italian  re- 
ligious drama),  iv.  75 

Commissaries,  i.  35 

Communes,  the  Italian,  their  rise,  1.33, 
53-82;  the  differences  between  them, 
35,  36,  iii.  43  ;  their  quarrels,  i.  36-38, 
62,  66  ;  why  the  historian  cannot  con- 


INDEX. 


577 


Communes,  the  Italian  (Continued). 

fine  his  attention  to  the  communes, 

51 ;   their  willingness  to  submit  to  the 

authority  of   the    Emperor,    64,  97  ; 

v\hy  they  did  not  advance  to  federal 

unity,  95-98 ;   their  public  spirit,  iii. 

42 ;  the  real  life  of  the  Italian  nation, 

iv.  27,  459,  v.  493 
Como,    traditional    reverence    for    the 

Plinies  there,  ii.  30,  iv.  12 
—  the  Cathedral,  Luini's  paintings,  iii. 

487  note  3 
Compagnacci,    the    young    aristocratic 

opponents  of  Savonarola,  so  called,  i. 

53i»  533.  in-  307 

Comparini,  Paoli,  representation  of  the 
Manachmi  by  his  pupils,  v.  138 

Conceptualists,  the,  v.  466,  467 

Condivi,  his  Biography  of  Michelangelo, 
ii.  36,  iii.  399,  402  note  i,  406 

Condottieri,  the,  i.  86,  87,  113,  131, 
143;  their  origin,  156-158;  members 
of  noble  Italian  houses  become  Con- 
dottieri, 158,  160,  iv.  459;  their 
mode  of  campaigning,  159,  160  note 
i ;  the  Condottieri  system  took  its 
rise  from  the  mercantile  character  of 
the  Italian  states,  244  ;  Machiavelli 
traces  the  ruin  of  Italy  to  the  Con- 
dottieri, 160  note  2,  312,  361,  v.  436 

Confusi,  the,  an  Academy  at  Bologna, 
ii.  366 

Conrad  II.,  i.  58 

Conservatori,  name  of  magistrates  in 
some  Italian  cities,  i.  35 

Consiglio  del  Genuine,  in  Italian  cities, 
i-  35»  7I:  di  Dieci,  35:  della  Parte, 
71 :  del  Popolo,  35,  71  :  de'  Savi, 
35  :  di  Tre,  35 

Constance,  Council  of,  ii.  134  ;  Jerome 
of  Prague  before  the  Council,  231, 
535  :  Peace  of,  64,  iv.  6;  not  signed 
by  Venice,  214 

Constantinople,  Fall  of,  89,  ii.  285, 
iv.  2 

Constitution,  the,  of  Genoa,  201 :  of 
Florence,  201,  222  (see  also  Appen- 
dix ii.):  of  Siena,  207:  ofVenice,2i4 

Constitution-making,  in  the  Italian  Re- 
publics, 201 

Consuls,  magistrates  of  Italian  Com- 
munes, i.  35,  56,  83;  their  part  in 
Italian  history,  61,  62,  68 


Contado,  the,  i.  66,  67 ;  original  mean- 
ing of  the  word,  55  note  i 
Contarini,  Cardinal,  his  friendship  with 
Flaminio,  ii.  498,  502  ;  —  with  Vit- 
toria  Colonna,  v.  292 ;  his  work  upon 
the  Commonwealth  of  Venice,  ii. 
502  ;  his  Venetian  origin,  illustrating 
the  loss  of  intellectual  supremacy  of 
Florence,  506;  his  Formulary  of 
Faith,  v.  286  :  Marcantonio  Flavio, 
takes  part  in  the  controversy  raised 
by  the  publication  of  Pomponazzi's 
De  Immortalitate  Atiima;,  460 
Conte  Lando,  the,  leader  of  Condot- 
tieri, i.  86 
Conversation,  the  art  of,  invented  by 

the  Italians,  ii.  31 

Copernicus,  discoveries  of,  i.    15,  29 ; 

their  importance,   15,    16;    question 

of  his    indebtedness  to  the  classical 

writers,  ii.  19 

Coppola,   Francesco,  execution  of,   by 

Ferdinand  of  Aragon,  i.  571  note  3 
Copyists,  their  inaccuracy,  ii.  129  ;  their 
pay,  130;  their  opposition  to  the  new 
art  of  printing,  370 

Cordegliaghi,  Venetian  painter,  iii.  362 
Corio,  quoted,  i.  135,  137  note  i,  137 
note  2,  138  note  I,  141  note  2,  150 
note  i,  152  note  i,  160  note  i,  167 
note  i ;  his  witness  to  the  corruption 
of  the  Milanese  Court,  326,  548  note 
I,  554,  v.  191 ;  his  character  of  Paul 
II.,  385  note  \  ;  his  description  of  the 
reception  of  Leonora  of  Aragon  by 
Cardinal  Pietro  Riario,  390:  cited 
for  the  death  of  the  Cardinal,  392 
notes  i  and  2.  393 ;  for  the  history  of 
Alfonso  the  Magnanimous,  568  note 
I  ;  his  account  of  the  Flagellants, 
619 ;  his  value  as  an  historian,  iv.  177 
Cornaro,  Cardinal,  abandons  Cellini  to 
the  Pope  in  exchange  for  a  bishopric, 
iii.  466 :  Caterina,  Queen  of  Cyprus, 
i.  233  :  Lodovico,  Autobiography  of, 
ii.  36 
Cornazano,  Antonio,  his  Proverb^  v. 

60,  101 

Corneto,  Cardinal,  his  connection  with 
the  death  of  Alexander  VI.,  i.  429- 

A    •>  | 

Corniole,  Giovanni  della,  his  portrait  of 
Savonarola,  i.  509 


578 


INDEX. 


Corrado,  Gregorio,  his  Latin  Play, 
Pregne,  v.  no 

Correggi,  the,  at  Parma,  v.  139  note  3  ; 
how  they  rose  to  power,  i.  112;  over- 
thrown by  the  Visconti.  145 ;  reap- 
pear after  the  death  of  Gian  Galle- 
azzo.  150 

—  Ghiberto  da,  (i)  the  pupil    of  Vit- 
toria  da  Feltre,  i.  177  ;  (2)  the  hus- 
band of  Veronica  Gambara,  v.  289 

Correggio,  Antonio  Allegri,  sensuousness 
of  his  work,  iii.  25,  495 ;  his  intro- 
duction of  Pagan  motives  into  Chris- 
tian art,  137;  founded  no  school  of 
local  artists,  184  ;  his  Danae  and  lo, 
illustrating  his  treatmentof  mythology, 
291  ;  one  of  the  four  great  painters 
by  whom  the  Renaissance  was  fully 
expressed,  312,  339  ;  manner  in  which 
bis  genius  differed  from  that  of  Mi- 
chelangelo, Raphael,  or  Lionardo  da 
Vinci,  339  ;  beauty  and  joyousness  of 
his  works,  340 ;  the  imitations  of  his 
style  in  the  period  of  barocco  architec- 
ture, 495 

Corrotto,  meaning  of  the  term,  iv.  294 
note  i,  309,  538 

Corso,  Rinaldo,  his  account  of  the  so- 
ciety around  Veronica  Gambara,  v. 
289 

Cortese,  Ersilia,  v.  288 

Cortesi,  Paolo,  his  Ilyppolyti  et  Deya- 
nirtz  Historia,  iv.  "13 

Cortesia,  meaning  of  the  word  in  Ital- 
ian, v.  13 

Cortona,  Signorelli's  Last  Supper,  iii. 
289 

Coryat,  cited  for  the  profligacy  of  Ven- 
ice, i.  475 

Corycius.     (See  Goritz.) 

Cosimo  I.  (See  Medici,  Cosimo  de', 
first  Grand  Duke.) 

Council,  the  Grand,  of  Venice,  i.  215- 
217 

—  of  Ten,  the,  at  Venice,  215  note  i ; 
its  powers,  218;  comparison  of,  with 
the  Spartan  Ephorate,  234 

Counts,  the,  opposed  to  the  Comnumes, 

i.  55,  66,  67 
Crasso,  Leonardo,  defrayed  the  cost  of 

printing  the  Hypnerotomachia,  iv.  221 
Credenza,  name  for  the  Privy  Council  in 

Italian  cities,  L  35,  57,  71 


Credi,  Lorenzo  di,  the  pupil  of  Verroc- 
chio,  iiL  142  ;  influence  of  Savonarola 
upon  him,  310 

Crema,  the  Duomo,  i.  74,  iii.  53 

Cremona,  Gabbriello  da,  a  pupil  of  Vit- 
torino  da  Felt  re's,  i.  177 

Cremonini,  Cesare,  epitaph  on  himrelf 
said  to  have  been  composed  by  him, 
v.  480 ;  said  to  be  the  author  of  the 
saying,  Forts  ut  marts,  intus  ut  libet, 
480 

Cretans,  number  of  Cretans  who  aided 
Aldo  Manuzio,  ii.  378,  386 

Cristina  of  Lorraine,  her  marriage  to 
Ferrando  de'  Medici,  iv.  325 

Criticism :  criticism  in  the  modern  sense 
unknown  to  the  ancients,  i.  24,  ii.  59 
note  i ;  created  by  the  Renaissance,  ii. 
67 ;  uncritical  character  of  the  first 
scholars,  296,  327,  337,  382 

Crivelli,  Crivello,  iii.  362 

Cronaca,  II,  architect,  iii.  76 

Crusades,  the,  i.  7  ;  joined  in  by  the 
Italians  mainly  from  commercial  mo- 
tives, iv.  426  (cp.  v.  505) 

Culture,  the  culture  of  modern  Europe 
due  to  the  Italians  of  the  Renaissance, 
ii.  9,  408,  506,  524,  v.  491,  505 ;  in- 
tricacy of  the  history  of  culture  in 
Italy,  ii.  158-140;  growth  of,  at  the 
Roman  Court,  406 

D'ALBORNOZ,  Egidio,  L  81 
Dalla  Viuola,  his  musical  compo- 
sitions for  the  theatre,  v.  143 

Damasus  II.,  i.  59 

Damiano,  Fra,  da  Bergamo,  his  tarsia 
work  at  Perugia,  iii.  78  note  2 

Daniel  da  Volterra,  employed  to  paint 
clothes  on  the  nude  figures  in  Michel- 
angelo's Last  Judgment^  iii  426 ;  in- 
fluenced by  Michelangelo,  493 

Dante,  the  facts  of  his  life,  iv.  70-73  ; 
refused  the  poet's  crown  unless  he 
could  receive  it  in  Florence,  86,  88  ; 
hisdevotion  to  the  Imperial  idea,  i.  76, 
77  note  i,  iv.  161  ;  veneration  of  the 
Ghibelline  poets  for  Dante,  iv.  162  ; 
his  firmness  in  exile  contrasted  with 
Machiavelli's  servility,  i.  318,  iii.  395 
(cp.  iv.  86) ;  his  denunciations  of  the 
Papacy,  i.  457 ;  his  idea  of  nobility, 
186  note  I  ;  Dante  and  Petrarch  com- 


INDEX. 


579 


Dante  {Continued). 

pared,  ii.  70,  iv.  85-89,  90 ;  Dante 
depreciated  by  Petrarch,  ii.  82  ;  points 
of  contrast  between  Dante  and  Ari- 
osto,  v.  15,  19,  21,  28  ;  Dante's  ge.iius 
never  immature,  iii.  387  ;  the  poet  of 
medieval  Christianity,  v.  2,  194,  449; 
between  the  ancient  and  the  modern 
world,  i.  10,  ii.  13,  39,  69,  iv.  84; 
the  first  exponent  of  Italian  genius,  iv. 
84  ;  his  superiority  in  lyric  to  his  pre- 
decessors, 66 ;  not  wholly  free  from 
scholasticism,  67 ;  his  relation  to  the 
Sumnia,  i.  60,  v.  449 ;  the  Convito, 
iv.  71  ;  Dante's  censure  in  it  of  the 
writers  who  preferred  French  to  Ital- 
ian, 16;  the  De  Monarchia^  i.  60, 
260,  ii.  57,  iii.  261,  iv.  88;  the  Vita 
Nuova,  ii.  31,  35,  iv.  68-70,  86,  123; 
the  meeting  with  Bextrice  quoted  as 
a  specimen  of  Dante's  style,  133 ; 
Dante's  treatment  of  love  in  the  Vita 
Nuova,  90  ;  the  De  Vulgari  Eloquio, 
i.  261,  272,  iv.  28,  66  note  2  ;  its  cita- 
tions of  vernacular  poetry,  iv.  20,  32  ; 
ideal  of  language  proposed  in  the 
work,  33, 42,  v.  246 ;  Dante's  account 
in  it  of  the  Sicilian  poets,  iv.  21 ;  the 
mention  of  Guittone  of  Arezzo,  46 ; 
Dante's  remark  in  it  on  the  subjects 
of  poetry,  117  note  I ;  translated  by 
Trissino,  v.  306 ;  the  Divina  Corn- 
media  :  Dante  himself  the  hero,  iv. 
78 ;  its  scientific  structure,  79 ;  the 
allegories  of  the  Commedia,  81 ;  its 
characteristic  Italian  realism,  82,  v. 
514;  Dante  finds  no  place  for  those 
who  stood  aloof  from  faction,  i.  73 ; 
contrast  of  the  Commedia  and  the 
Decameron,  iv.  104;  the  Commedia 
as  an  epic  of  Italian  tyranny,  i.  77 
nott  i  ;  influence  exercised  by  it  on 
the  painters,  iii.  283  note  2  (cp. 
406) ;  Dante's  own  explanation  of  the 
Divina  Commeiia,  iv.  75-77  J  its 
comprehensive  spirit,  77 ;  quota- 
tions:— the  Inferno:  the  speech  of 
Ulysses,  ii.  330  note  2 ;  the  ancient 
poets,  ii.  32,  iii.  283  note  2  ;  mention 
of  the  story  of  Roland,  iv.  433 :_  the 
Paradiso :  Cacciaguida's  speech,  i.  73 
note  i;  the  miseries  of  patronage,  318  ; 
the  planet  Mercury,  ii.  39 ;  character 


Dante  (Continued). 

of  S.  Dominic,  iii.  205 ;  lines  quoted 
to  show  the  clinging  of  the  Italians  to 
their  past  history,  iv.  12  (cp.  151': 
the  Purgatory:  the  apostrophe  to 
Italy,  i.  77  note  I ;  the  speech  of 
Manfred,  133  note  i ;  the  fickleness 
of  Florence,  237  ;  the  fleetingness  of 
fame,  ii.  39  ;  the  Sacred  City,  Rome, 
144 ;  the  sculpture  seen  by  Dante  in 
Purgatory,  iii.  149 ;  the  Trevisan 
Court,  iv.  15  ;  the  praise  of  Guido 
Guinicelli,  47  ;  the  mention  of  Guit- 
tone of  Arezzo,  48 ;  the  Canzone — 
Donne  cK  avete  intelletto  famore,  62  ; 
philosophical  treatment  of  love  in  the 
poem,  62  ;  the  song  of  the  Ghirlan- 
detta :  its  popularity,  261 

Dati,  Goro  di  Stagio,  iv.  176;  his  de- 
scription of  May  festivals  at  Florence, 
52 

Dati,  Leonardo,  his  Cosmographical 
History,  iv.  240 

Dati.  Leonardo,  theologian  and  friend 
of  Palmieri,  v.  549 ;  comments  on  the 
Citta  di  Vita,  548,  549 

Dattiri,  Altobello,  assassination   of,   L 

121 

D'Avalos,  Alfonso,  Marquis  of  Vasto, 
gives  Ariosto  a  pension,  iv.  503 

—  Ferrante  Francesco,  Marquis  of  Pes- 
cara,  marries  Vittoria  Colonna,  v. 
289 ;  his  reputed  treason,  290  (cp.  i. 

245) 

Dazzi,  Andrea,  devises  the  cars  for  the 
Pageant  of  the  Golden  Age,  iv.  397 

Death,  the  Black,  its  effects  at  Florence, 
i.  259,  ii.  120,  iv.  in,  v.  191;  de- 
scription of,  in  the  Decameron,  iv.  1 1 1 

Decembrio,  Candido,  his  account  of  Fil- 
ippo  Maria  Visconti,  L  153  note  I, 
ii.  266  ;  followed  the  model  of  Sueto- 
nius, ii.  533 ;  patronised  by  Eugenius 
IV.,  220;  translates  Appian  and 
Homer,  and  aids  Trapezuntius  in 
translating  the  Republic,  for  Nicholas 
V.,  228,  266  ;  appointed  Secretary  of 
the  Abbreviators  by  Nicholas,  229 ; 
his  position  at  Milan,  266  ;  cited  for 
Filelfo's  conceit,  271  note  I 

Decorative  Art,  wealth  of,  in  Italian 
palaces  and  Churches,  iii.  54,  56,  78 

Decretals,  the  false,  i.  3 


INDEX. 


Delia  Casa,  Giovanni,  Bishop  of  Bene- 
vento,  facts  of  his  life.  v.  274 ;  his 
morality,  i.  459  note  2  (cp.  v.  274) ;  a 
member  of  the  Vignajuoli  Academy 
at  Rome,  ii.  366,  v.  357  ;  said  to  have 
been  refused  the  Cardinalate  on  ac- 
count of  the  Capitolo  del  Forno,  v. 
275  ;  his  relations  with  Pier  Paolo 
Vergerio,  275  note  I,  381  note  \  ;  the 
Galateo,  L  183  note  I,  it  37,  v.  275 ; 
a  code  of  social  etiquette  aesthetically 
treated,  v.  430 ;  the  Capitolo  del 
Forno,  40,  275,  278,  364 ;  the  Latin 
Lyrics,  ii.  497,  v.  276 ;  his  Corre- 
spondence, v.  276,  360;  the  Italian 
Poems  :  sternness  and  sadness  of  their 
tone,  277 ;  translations  of  six  sonnets, 
279 

Delia  Casa,  Quirino  (son  of  Giovanni 
della  Casa),  v.  274 

Delia  Crusca  Academy,  the,  at  Flo- 
rence, it  366  ;  II  Lasca  and  the  Della 
Crusca,  v.  79  note  2 

Della  Rovere  Family,  the,  Sixtus  IV. 
claims  kindred  with  them,  i.  388 ; 
their  armorial  bearings,  388,  ii.  495 

—  Francesco  (see  Sixtus  IV.):  Fran- 
cesco Maria,  Duke  of  Urbino,  ii. 
419;  his  violence  of  temper,  i.  393; 
neglects  to  defend  Rome  in  1527,  245, 
297,  444:  Giovanni  della,  Duke  of 
Urbino,  182  note  2,  389,  393,  ii.  419  : 
Cardinal  Girolamo,  his  monument  by 
Sansovino,  Hi.  156 :  Giuliano  (see 
Julius  II.);  Lionardo,  i.  389  :  Nicolo, 
marries  Laura,  daughter  of  Alexander 
VI.,  407  note  i 

Demetrius  of  Crete,  aids  in  the  first 
printing  of  Greek  books  in  Italy,  ii. 
375 ;  furnishes  the  model  for  the 
Greek  type  of  the  first  edition  of 
Homer,  376 

Democracy,  the  Renaissance  and  de- 
mocracy, i.  27,  28,  v.  489;  gradual 
approach  of  the  Italian  cities  to  de- 
mocracy, 72 

Democratic  principles  of  modern  society, 
i.  28 

Desiderio  da  Settignano,  his  monument 
to  Carlo  Marsuppini,  ii.  186.  iii.  158 
note  2,  159;  his  bust  of  Marietta 
Strozzi,  iii.  159;  Giovanni  Santi's 
description  of  him,  160 


Desiosi,  the,  an  Academy  at  Bologna, 
ii.  366 

Despots,  the  Italian,  i.  42  ;  their  rise, 
75-77,  81 ;  their  services  to  art  and 
literature,  78-80,  iii.  42 ;  popular 
with  the  middle  classes  and  the  peo- 
ple, i.  83,  116  ;  disarm  their  subjects, 
85;  their  downfall,  89,  90;  their 
title  rested  solely  on  ability,  102,  117, 
118;  character  and  effect  of  their 
government,  103  ;  luxury  and  culture 
of  their  Courts,  105 ;  the  atrocities 
of  the  tyrants — how  far  due  to  mania, 
109,  no,  151  (see  also  Appendix  i.)  ; 
divided  into  six  classes,  110-114  ;  led 
a  life  of  terror,  118:  their  supersti- 
tion, 119,  149;  their  crimes,  120- 
125.  139,  v.  441  ;  errors  in  Macau- 
lay's  account  of  them,  i.  127 ;  descrip- 
tion of  them  by  Villani,  128;  by 
Ariosto,  130,  iv.  506  note  2  ;  their 
practice  of  division  among  joint  heirs 
a  source  of  weakness  to  them,  i.  136  ; 
developed  refinement  of  manners,  192 

D'Estampes,  Madame,  iii.  474,  476 

Desti,  the,  an  Academy  at  Bologna,  iu 
366 

Diacccto,  Jacopo  del,  executed  for  his 
share  in  the  conspiracy  against  Cardi- 
nal Giulio  de'  Medici,  v.  239 

Diamond,  the,  name  of  a  club  at  Flor- 
ence formed  by  the  Duke  of  Nemours, 
iv.  396 

Dino  Compagni,  Chronicle  of,  cited, 
i.  210  note  2,  225  note  I ;  question  of 
its  authenticity,  262,  263  note  I,  266, 
272  ;  Dino's  reason  for  undertaking 
the  work,  264 ;  its  character  and 
value,  265 

Diplomacy  :  diplomatic  ability  fostered 
by  the  number  of  the  Italian  Com- 
monwealths, ii.  3,  iv.  366  (cp.  v.  518) 

Disciplinati  di  Gesii  Crist  o,  Italian  re- 
ligious societies,  iv.  282,  307 

Disunity  the,  an  Academy  at  Fabriano, 
ii.  366 

Divizio,  Agnolo,  nephew  of  Cardinal 
Bibbiena,  v.  367  :  Bernardo  (see  Bib- 
biena.  Cardinal) 

Divozioni^  the  Umbrian  form  of  the 
sacred  drama,  iv.  307  ;  various  metres 
in  which  they  were  written,  308 ; 
their  themes,  309;  question  of  the 


INDEX. 


Divozioni  {Continued). 

date  when  they  were  first  represented 
in  public,  310 ;  their  relation  to  the 
Northern  Miracle  Plays,  311 

Djem,  Prince,  brother  of  Sultan  Bajazet, 
his  captivity  in  Italy,  i.  415,  461 ; 
said  to  have  been  poisoned  by  Alex- 
ander VI.,  415,  566  note  I 

Doctrinaire  spirit,  the,  of  Italian  politi- 
cal theorists,  i.  202,  244  note  2,  283 

Doge,  gradual  limitation  of  the  power 
of  the  Doges  at  Venice,  i.  216;  un- 
popularity of  the  office,  216  note  i 

Dolce,  Lodovico,  v.  181  ;  his  tragedy 
of  Marianna,  133 ;  more  truly  dra- 
matic than  the  majority  of  Italian 
tragedies,  133;  the  Giocasta,  134; 
the  comedy  of  Ragazzo,  162  note  i  ; 
its  Prologue  cited  in  testimony  of  the 
prevalent  corruption  of  manners,  190 ; 
his  Capitoli,  365 ;  his  relations  to 
Aretino,  419 

Domenichi,  Lodovico,  his  revision  of 
Ser  Giovanni's  Novelle,  iv.  152  note 
2 ;  his  rifacimento  of  the  Orlando 
Innamorato,  491,  v.  376  ;  his  friend- 
ship and  quarrel  with  Doni,  v.  88 ; 
his  collection  of  works  of  Italian  poet- 
esses, 287 

Domenico,  Fra  (Savonarola's  friend), 
offers  to  undergo  the  ordeal  of  fire, 
i.  533 ;  executed  with  Savonarola, 

534 
Domenico   di   Giovanni.     (See  Burchi- 

ello,  II.) 

Domenico,  S.,  Perugian  Confraternity 
of:  inventory  of  their  dramatic  pro- 
perties in  1339,  iv.  310 

Dominic,  S. ,  contrast  of  S.  Dominic 
and  S.  Francis,  iii.  205 

Dominico  di  Viterbo,  story  of  his  crimes 
and  execution  by  Innocent  VIII.,  i. 
404  note  i 

Donatello,  ii.  8,  433 ;  a  friend  of  Nic- 
colo  de'  Niccoli's,  180;  his  statue 
of  Poggio,  246 ;  his  statues  at  Flor- 
ence, 440,  iii.  138  ;  his  work  as  a 
sculptor  and  bronze  founder  in  Italian 
churches,  iii.  78  note  I  ;  said  to  have 
been  consulted  in  the  competition  for 
the  Baptistery  Gates  at  Florence, 
127;  his  fidelity  to  nature,  136;  his 
smaller  works,  139-141 }  the  Judith 


Donatello  (Continued), 
and  Holofornes :  its  fortunes,  I39(cp. 
i.  233);  the  equestrian  statue  of  Gat- 
tamelata  at  Padua,  140;  contrast  of 
his  genius  with  that  of  Ghiberti,  141 ; 
Brunelleschi's  criticism  of  his  Christ, 
233 ;  employed  by  Cosiino  de'  Medici, 
I3«».  *39.  263 

Donati,  the,  at  Florence,  i.  210  note  2, 
iv.  71 

Donati,  Alesso,  his  Madrigals,  iv.  157; 
their  realistic  energy,  157  (see  Appen- 
dix iii.  vol.  iv.  for  translations) :  Gem- 
ma, wife  of  Dante,  iv.  71 

Doni,  Antonfrancesco,  enters  the  Servite 
Order,  v.  88 ;  obliged  to  quit  Flo- 
rence, 88  ;  his  friendship  and  quarrel 
with  Domenichi,  88  ;  his  correspond- 
ence with  Aretino :  suspicion  that 
part  may  have  been  written  by  Are- 
tino himself,  398  note  i.  410  note  i  ; 
settles  at  Venice,  89  ;  his  praises  of 
Aldo  Manuzio,  ii.  391;  hisquarrel  with 
Aretino,  v.  90,  96,  419,  422  ;  becomes 
a  member  of  the  Pellegrini  Academy, 
90;  his  life  at  Monselice,  91  ;  his  ac- 
count of  two  comedies  performed  in 
the  Palazzo  Vecchio,  Florence,  144 
note  4 ;  his  Novelle,  92 ;  his  miscella- 
neous works,  92  ;  his  Marmi,  93-95  ; 
his  Comedies,  iSl 

Doria,  Andrea,  i.  201 

Dossi,  Dosso,  his  Circe,  illustrating  his 
treatment  of  mythology,  iii  291,  502, 
iv.  422,  482 

Doucas,  Demetrius,  a  member  of  the 
Aldine  Academy,  ii.  387 

Drama,  the  Italian,  a  national  drama 
never  fully  developed  in  Italy,  ii.  8, 
iv.  357,  v.  1 10,  112-114,  125,  181, 
241,  310 ;  imperfect  connection  of 
the  Italian  theatre  with  the  Sacre 
Rappreseiitazioni,  iv.  306,  v.  109 ; 
want  of  profoundly  tragical  element 
in  Italian  art,  v.  114-116;  reasons 
for  this,  116-120;  the  first  attempts 
in  Italian :  Boiardo's  Timone  and 
Poliziano's  Or/*,  108;  early  Latin 
plays,  no;  contrast  between  t 
Italian  and  the  Elizabethan  drama, 
in;  the  growth  of  a  national  Italian 
drama  hindered  by  the  adherence  of 
playwrights  to  classical  models,  121- 


INDEX. 


Drama,  the  Italian  {Continued). 

12$  ;  poverty  of  the  early  Italian 
tragedies,  126,  132,  135 ;  Seneca's 
influence  over  Italian  tragedies,  129, 
131,  132  note  I  ;  Italian  tragedies 
adapted  from  the  Greek  tragedians, 
133-135  ;  imperfect  evolution  of  Ital- 
ian comedy,  136-138,  140;  influence 
of  the  Ferrarese  stage  on  Italian 
comedy,  142;  the  want  of  permanent 
theatres  in  Italian  towns,  144 ;  char- 
acter of  the  Italian  Commedia  eru- 
dita,  181  ;  tendency  of  the  Italians  to 
adopt  stereotyped  forms  for  dramatic 
representation,  182  note  2  ;  fixed  ele- 
ments in  Italian  comedy,  183-185  ; 
employment  of  the  burla  or  beffa, 
185  ;  vicious  philosophy  of  life  taught 
by  the  Italian  playwrights,  192;  the 
pastoral  drama  the  culmination  of 
Italian  dramatic  effort,  114,  223, 
241  ;  contained  the  germs  of  the 
Italian  opera,  114,  241 

Duccio,  Agostino  di,  his  fa9ade  in  mar- 
ble and  terra-cotta  of  S.  Bernardino 
at  Perugia,  iii.  79  note  i,  150 

Duccio  di  Buoninsegna,  his  Majesty  of 
the  Virgin  in  the  Duomo  of  Siena, 
iii.  215 

Duranti,  Durante,  attempts  the  murder 
of  Benvenuto  Cellini,  iii.  467 

EDUCATION,  modern  education 
founded  upon  the  system  of  Vit- 
torino  and  Guarino,  li.  537,  v.  492 ; 
present  tendency  to  diminish  Greek 
and  Latin  elements  in  education : 
how  far  justifiable,  ii.  537-540  ;  iden- 
tity of  male  and  female  education  in 
Italy  at  the  Renaissance,  v.  287 
note  i 

Egidius  of  Viterbo,  quoted  for  the  ac- 
knowledgment of  his  children  by  In- 
nocent VIII.,  i.  403  note  i 

Egnazio,  Giambattista,  a  member  of  the 
Aldine  Academy,  ii.  387 

Emilia  Pia,  wife  of  Antonio  da  Monte- 
feltro,  introduced  in  Castiglione's  Cor* 
tegiano,  i.  184 

England,  Poggio's  journey  to.  ii.  231 

Enzo,  King,  reputed  ancestor  of  the 
Bentivogli,  i.  115,  iv.  49;  his  Greeting 
to  the  Provinces  of  Italy,  49 


Ephors,  the  Spartan,  compared  with 
the  Venetian  Council  of  Ten,  i.  234 

Epic,  the  Italian  Romantic :  its  anoma- 
lies explained  by  a  large  plebeian 
element,  iv.  426-428,  439 ;  manner 
in  which  the  Roland  Legend  passed 
into  its  Italian  form,  428 

Epicureans,  in  Italy  during  the  middle 
ages,  iv.  10,  109 

Epistolography,  Latin,  importance  of, 
in  the  Renaissance,  ii.  107,  531,  v. 

507 

Erasmus,  i.  24,  27 ;  quoted  on  the 
worldly  tendency  of  classical  learning, 
456  note,  ii  44 ;  his  ridicule  of  '  Ci- 
ceronianism,'  ii.  108,  414  (cp.  528) ; 
his  visit  to  Aldo  Manuzio  at  Venice, 
384  ;  popularity  of  his  Adagia,  384 
note  i  ;  hatred  of  the  clergy  against 
him,  385  ;  quoted  for  Musurus' 
knowledge  of  Latin,  386  note  2; 
a  member  of  the  Aldine  Academy, 
387  ;  his  praises  of  Aldo  Manuzio, 
391;  his  visit  to  Rome,  408;  cited 
for  Inghirami's  eloquence,  425  note 
2  ;  initiated  a  second  age  of  scholar- 
ship, 541  ;  quoted  for  the  Italian  ori- 
gin of  Northern  culture,  544 

Erizzo,  Sebastiano,  his  Set  Ciornate^  v. 
60 

Este,  House  of,  i.  52,  57,  145 ;  con- 
firmed in  their  succession  by  the  Pa- 
pacy, in;  their  crimes  and  tragic 
history,  125,  168,423;  their  patron- 
age of  learning,  ii.  298 ;  important 
part  played  by  the  D'Esti  in  the  re- 
suscitation of  Latin  comedy  in  Italy, 
v.  139 

—  Alberto  d',  i.  146  :  Alfonso  d',  aids 
Frundberg's  army  on  the  march  to 
Rome,  245,  444 ;  married  ( i )  to  Anna 
Sforza,  v.  140,  (2)  Lucrezia  Borgia, 
420,  422,  423,  v.  141  ;  his  skill  as  a 
gunsmith,  i.  423,  Hi.  403  ;  takes  Ari- 
osto  into  his  service,  iv.  498 ;  builds 
the  first  permanent  theatre  in  Italy, 
iv.  499,  v.  144;  makes  Ariosto  gov- 
ernor of  the  Garfagnana,  iv.  500 ;  his 
warfare  with  the  Papacy,  500 :  Azzo 
d',  i.  168  :  Beatrice  d'  (i),  mentioned 
by  Dante,  133  :  Beatrice  d'  (2),  wife  of 
Lodovico  Sforza  ,555  :  Borso  d',  173  ; 
his  reception  of  Filelfo,  ii.  285  ;  the 


INDEX. 


583 


E?te,  Alberto  d'  (Continued]. 

friend  of  Boiardo,  iv.  457  :  Ercole  d', 
his  assassination  attempted  by  Nicolo 
d'Este,  i.  168  ;  urges  Ludovico  Sforza 
to   invite   the    French,     546;    meets 
Charles  at  Pavia,  554  ;   the  friend  of 
Boiardo,  iv.  457 ;  his  interest  in  the 
representation  of  Latin  comedies,  v. 
139;  his  translation  of  the  Metuzchmi, 
140;    his  visit  to  Milan,  iv.  498,  v. 
140;    festivities   prepared  by  him  at 
the   marriage  of  Lucrezia  Borgia  to 
Alfonso  d'Este,  v.  141;  his  marriage 
to  Renee,   daughter  to  Louis  XII., 
297  :    Ferdinand  d',   shares   Giulio's 
plot  against  Alfonso,  i.  423 :  Giulio 
d',  his  attempt  on  Alfonso,  423  ;  h 
eyes  put   out   by   order  of  Ippolit 
d'Este,  423,  iv.  495  :  Cardinal  Ippo 
lito  d',  invites  Cellini  to  the  Court  o 
Francis  I.,  iii.  472,476;  takes  Ari 
osto  into  his  service,  iv.  494 ;  wishe 
him  to  enter  the  Church,  495  ;  quarre 


between  them,  496  (cp.  509) ;  put 
out  the  eyes  of  Giulio  d'Este,  1.423,  iv 
495  :  Lionello  d',  the  pupil  of  Gua 
rino,  i.  173,  it.  240,  299;  his  corre 
spondence  with  eminent  scholars,  173 
ii.  300;  his  portrait  in  the  Nationa 
Gallery,  ii.  300;  Alberti's  Teogenio 
dedicated  to  him,  iv.  205 :  Nicolo  d 
(Nicolas  III.),  his  journey  to  Rome 
ii.  152  note  i ;  reopens  the  High 
School  of  Ferrara,  298 ;  his  patron- 
age of  men  of  letters,  i.  173  :  Obizzo 
d',  sells  Parma  to  Lucchino  Visconti, 
i.  134;  murdered  by  his  uncle,  146 
Ugo  d',  his  journey  to  Rome,  ii.  152 
note  i 
Eterei,  Gli,  an  Academy  at  Padua,  v. 

272 

Eugenius  IV.,  consulted  by  Cosimo  cle' 
Medici  as  to  how  he  should  make 
restitution,  ii.  172  ;  Lionardo  Bruni's 
translation  of  Aristotle's  Politicsde&\- 
cated  to  him,  184;  retires  to  Flo- 
rence after  his  expulsion  from  Rome, 
185,  186,  196,  219;  makes  Traversari 
General  of  the  Camaldolese  Order, 
194,  his  proclivities  rather  monastic 
than  humanistic,  219;  makes  Mar- 
suppini  and  Aurispa  Papal  Secretaries, 
and  patronises  other  scholars,  220 ; 


Eugenius  IV.  (Continued). 
proscribes  the  reading  of  Beccadelli's 
Hermaphrodites,  256;    attacked   by 
Valla  in  the  treatise  on  Cotistantine's 
Donation,   260;    his  saying  on  the 
malice  of  the  Humanists,  511;   page- 
ants in  his  honour  at   Perugia    iv 
315 

Euripides,  compared  with  Ariosto,  v 
35,  37 

Eusebi,  Ambrogio  degli,  a  secretary  of 
Aretino's,  v.  421 

Exarchate  and  Pentapolis,  the,  i.  48,  51 : 
Exarchs,  the,  35,  43 

Excommunication,  terrors  of,  i.  132,  133 
note  i,  471,  531,  ii.  332 

Ezzelino  da  Romana,  i.  69,  75,  1 10  ;  his 
cruelty,  106-110,  iv.  279;  influence 
of  his  example  on  Italy,  i.  107,  108, 
iv.  280 ;  his  love  of  astrology,  119 

I^ABLIAUX,   the,    of    the    middle 


ages,  iv.  107 
Fabriano,  paper  factory  of,  ii.  371,  37 
Fabrizio,  early  Bolognese  poet,  iv.  48 
Faenza,  massacre  of,  i.  82  ;  sold  by  As- 
torre  Manfredi,  114;    Church  of  S. 
Costanzo  :  Benedetto  da  Majano's  bas- 
reliefs,  iii.  1 60 
Falconetto,  Giovanni  Maria,  his  work 

as  an  architect  at  Padua,  iii.  86 
Farnesi,  the,  origin  of  their  greatness, 

1.  417  note  2 

—  Cardinal  Alessandro,  v.  283 :  Alex- 
ander (see  Paul  III.):  Giulia.  sur- 
named  La  Bella,  mistress  of  Alexan- 
der VI.,  i.  407  note  i ;  her  portrait 
statue  on  Paul  III. 's  tomb,  417  note 

2,  iii.  108 ;  captured  by  the  French, 
i.  417  :  Pier  Luigi  (son  of  Paul  III.), 
428  note  i,  iii.  422  note  i,  460,  462, 
465,  v.  283 ;  Aretino's  lines  on  him, 
v.  402  note  i :    Cardinal   Ranuccio', 
283  :  Ranuzio,  orders  the  building  of 
the  Teatro  Farnese  at  Parma,  144 

Parse,  the,  at  Naples,  v.  136, 137  ;  cul- 
tivated by  Cecchi  at  Florence,  188; 
his  description  of  the  Farsa,  188 ; 
how  related  to  the  English  type  of 
drama,  iSS,  189 

raust,  Legend  of,  ii.  53 ;  in  Italy  and 
England,  iv.  347 


584 


INDEX. 


Fazio,  BartolommeOjthe  historiographer 
of  Alfonso  the  Magnanimous,  i.  569, 
ii.  38 ;  his  criticisms  on  Valla,  ii. 
263 

Federigo  d'Arezzo,  poems  of,  iv.  164 

Felix,  the  Anti-Pope,  ii.  236 

Feltre,  Vittorino  da,  i.  171;  a  scholar 
of  Giovanni  da  Ravenna,  ii.  100,  290 ; 
acquainted  with  Filelfo  at  Venice, 
267  ;  his  poverty  and  early  education, 
289  ;  begins  teaching,  290 ;  summoned 
to  Mantua,  L  176,  ii.  291  ;  Traver- 
sari's  account  of  his  system  of  educa- 
cation,  177  (cp.  ii.  291-297) ;  his 
single-mindedness  contrasted  with  the 
self-seeking  of  other  scholars,  ii.  290, 
523  ;  his  nobility  of  character,  297  ; 
effect  of  his  labours,  273,  537 

Ferdinand  the  Catholic,  his  hypocrisy, 
i.  296,  358  ;  his  persecution  of  the 
Jews,  399-401  ;  his  alliance  with 
Louis  XII.,  428;  obtains  Roussillon 
from  Charles  VIII.  as  the  price  of 
neutrality,  542 ;  joins  the  League  of 
Venice  against  Charles,  577 

Ferdinand  I.,  King  of  Naples,  i.  113 
note  i  ;  his  cruelty  and  avarice,  139 
note  i,  395,  570;  supports  Virginio 
Orsini  against  Alexander  VI.,  545; 
character  of  him  by  Comine«,  572 ; 
his  judgment  of  Pope  Alexander  VI., 
409 ;  his  opinion  of  the  Papacy,  45 1 

Ferdinand  II.,  King  of  Naples,  retires 
before  the  approach  of  the  French, 
i.  574  ;  his  marriage  and  death,  575 

Fernus,  Michael,  his  panegyric  of  Alex- 
ander VI.,  i.  408 

Ferrara,  share  of,  in  Italian  literature, 
iv.  364,  365  ;  retained  more  feudal 
feeling  than  other  towns,  iv.  460 

—  the  Castle  of,  i.  423,  iii.  60,  iv.  456 ; 
the  Palazzo  della  Ragione,  v.  141 

—  the  High  School,  ii.   117;  reopened 
by  Niccol6  III.,  298;  most  flourish- 
ing at  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth 
century,   427,    v.  497  ;    difference   of 
character  between  the  Universities  of 
Ferrara  and  Padua,  v.  460  »% 

Ferrari,  Gatidenzio,  belongs  to  the  Lom- 
bard school,  iii.  484 ;  his  masters  and 
mixed  style,  488-490 

Ferrucci,  his  part  in  the  siege  of  Flo- 
rence, i.  238,  285,  521 


Feudalism,  uncongenial  to  the  Italian 
character,  i.  42,  58,  61,  62,  100,  359, 
484,  ii.  3,  iii.  51,  iv.  6,  7,  27,  44,  140, 
405,  426,  459,  v.  492,  503,  505,  524, 
530 ;  had  a  stronger  hold  on  the  valley 
of  the  Po  than  elsewhere  in  Italy,  iv. 
6,  460 ;  and  on  Naples,  460 

Fiamma,  Galvano,  his  Milanese  An- 
nals, i.  81 

Fiammetta,  the  natural  daughter  of 
King  Robert,  iv.  120  note  i ;  her  re- 
lations with  Boccaccio,  120 

Fiandino,  Ambrogio,  takes  part  in  the 
controversy  raised  by  the  publication 
of  Pomponazzi's  De  Immortalitate 
Animcz,  v.  460 

Ficino.  his  attempt  to  combine  ancient 
philosophy  and  Christianity,  i.  171, 
456,  ii.  209,  325,470,  iii.  35,  v.  452 ; 
educated  by  Co>imo  de'  Medici  in 
order  to  teach  Greek  philosophy,  ii. 
177,  207,  324;  his  influence  over 
Italian  thought,  207,  327  ;  his  trans- 
lations the  most  valuable  part  of  his 
work,  v.  453  ;  one  of  the  circle  gath- 
ered round  Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  ii. 
322,  323;  his  earnest  ness  of  character, 
325,  523;  in  common  with  his  age, 
did  not  comprehend  Plato's  system, 
327,  v.  452 ;  his  letter  to  Jacopo 
Bracciolini  describing  a  celebration 
of  Plato's  birthday,  ii.  329 ;  his  praise 
of  Palmieri's  Citta  di  Vita,  iv.  171; 
part  of  the  Morgante  erroneously 
ascribed  to  him  by  Tasso,  455  note  3 ; 
his  description  of  the  village  feasts  at 
Montevecchio,  v.  196 

Fieschi,  Isabella,  poisons  her  husband, 
Lucchino  Visconti,  L  134 

Fiesole,  the  Cathedral,  Mino's  altar,  iii. 
158  note  i ;  Mino's  bust  of  Bishop 
Salutati,  158 

Filarete,  Antonio,  builds  the  Ospedale 
Maggiore  at  Milan,  iii.  59,  77 ;  his 
treatise  on  the  building  of  the  ideal 
city.  77  note  2  ;  his  work  as  a  bronze 
founder,  78  note  I  ;  executes  the 
bronze  gates  of  S.  Peter's,  108,  v. 
424 

Filelfo.  Francesco,  corresponds  with 
Lionello  d'Este,  i.  173;  his  epigrams 
on  Pius  II.,  381  ;  patronised  by  Fran- 
cesco Sforza,  ii.  38,  282  (cp.  511); 


INDEX. 


585 


Filelfo,  Francesco  (Continued). 

his  boasts  of  his  learning,  84,  271, 
347  ;  his  wanderings,  100,  268,  277  ; 
a  scholar  of  Giovanni  da  Ravenna, 
loo;  his  various  emoluments  and  offers 
of  stipends,  122,  274,  277 ;  obliged 
to  leave  Florence  by  Niccoli's  oppo- 
sition, 182,  275 ;  offended  by  Mar- 
suppini's  success  at  Florence,  187, 
275,  278  note  i  ;  patronised  by  Euge- 
nius  IV.,  220 ;  receives  a  present  from 
Nicholas  V.  for  his  satires,  236,  284 
(cp.  514);  his  quarrel  with  Poggio, 
233-240  ;  teaches  at  Venice,  267  ; 
his  journey  to  Constantinople,  267 ; 
his  diplomatic  employments,  268 
(cp.  532) ;  his  marriage  with  Theo- 
dora Chrysoloras,  268  ;.  returns  to 
Venice,  270;  list  of  Greek  books 
brought  by  him,  270  ;  leaves  Venice, 
first  for  Bologna,  finally  for  Florence, 
273  ;  his  success  and  literary  labours 
at  Florence,  273 ;  his  Lectures  on 
Dante,  274,  iv.  235  ;  his  feud  with 
the  Medicean  party,  275;  they  at- 
tempt his  assassination,  170  note  i, 
ii.  243,  275  ;  references  in  his  Satires 
to  his  Florentine  quarrels,  ii.  276  note 

1  ;  his  stay  in  Siena  and  in  Bologna, 
276 ;    settles     in    Milan,    277 ;    his 
labours  in  Milan,  278;    his  position 
there,  i.  171,  ii.  265,  266,  277;  his 
second  and  third  marriages,  279,  282; 
his  loose  morals,  280  ;    solicits  eccle- 
siastical preferment  from  Nicholas  V., 
281,    517;    his    rapacity,    282;    the 
Sforzlad,'^  note  i,  284;    his  jour- 
ney to  Naples,  284 ;    obtains  the  re- 
lease of  his  mother-in-law  at  the  fall 
of  Constantinople,    285  ;    invited   to 
Rome  by  Sixtus  IV.,  285  ;  returns  to 
Florence  and  dies,  288 ;    his  import- 
ance as  a  typical  scholar  of  the  Renais- 
sance, 288;    his  answer  when  urged 
to  open  a  school,  291 ;  quotation  from 
a  letter  of  his  containing  an   early 
mention  of  printed   books,  306  note 

2  ;  poorness  of  his  Latin  verse,  452 ; 
his  contempt  for  Italian,  532  note  i, 
iv.  235 ;  his  Commentary  on  Petrarch, 
and  terza  rima  poem  on  S.  John,  iv. 
235 

Florentine,  Bernardo,  iii.  75 


Fioretti  di  S.  Francesco,  beauty  of  the 
work,  iv.  131 ;  has  the  childlike  char- 
acter of  Italian  trecento  prose,  131  ; 
S.  Anthony  preaching  to  the  fishes, 
quoted  as  a  specimen  of  its  style,  134 

Firenzuola,  Agnolo,  the  friend  of  Are- 
tino,  v.  83;  their  correspondence, 
410  note  i  ;  a  member  of  the  Vig- 
najuoli  Academy  at  Rome.  ii.  366 
(cp.  v.  83).  v.  357  ;  said  to  have  been 
abbot  in  the  Vallambrosan  Order,  v. 
83  ;  his  Novelle,  60 :  their  beauty  of 
style,  84:  their  subjects  chiefly  the 
weaknesses  and  the  vices  of  the  clergy, 
84 :  the  Introduction,  84 ;  his  Dis- 
course on  the  Beauty  of  Women,  ii. 
37>  v-  83,  85-87 ;  his  miscellaneous 
works  and  poems,  v.  87,  187,  249  ; 
his  Comedies,  181,  186:  adhered 
closely  to  Latin  models,  186 ;  his 
Capitoli,  249,  364;  his  orthographi- 
cal disputes  with  Trissino,  271,  306 

Fisiraghi  Family,  the,  of  Lodi,  i.  145 

Fisiraga,  Antonio,  his  murder  of  the 
Vistarini  and  death  by  poison,  i.  120 

Fivizzano,  massacre  of,  557 

Flagellants,  the,  i.  618,  iv.  40,  73 ;  de- 
scription of  them  from  the  Chronicle 
of  Padua,  iv.  280:  from  a  private 
letter  from  Rome  (1399),  282  note  I ; 
social  danger  caused  by  them,  282  ; 
merged  in  the  Disciplinati  and  Lau- 
desi,  282 

Flaminio,  Marcantonio,  his  verses  upon 
the  death  of  Navagero,  ii.  488 ;  his 
Latin  poems :  their  beauty  and  inter- 
est, 498-504  (cp.  v.  196) ;  his  friend- 
ship with  Cardinal  Pole  and  Vittona 
Colonna,  ii.  498,  502,  v.  292 

Flanders,  artists  brought  from,  by  Fred- 
erick of  Urbino,  i.  179;  comparison 
between  Flemish  and  Venetian  art, 
iii.  362  note  I 

Flattery  of  great  personages  by  the  H 
manists,  ii.  492-496,  512,  514 

Florence:  struggle  between  Florence 
and  theVisconti,  i.  81,  149;  consti- 
tutional history  of,  221  foil.;  parties 
at  Florence  in  1494,  528:  in  1527, 
281  ;  the  Ciompi  Rebellion,  221, 
227,  iv.  in,  150;  the  exclusion  of 
the  nobles,  224.  iv.  27,  51 ;  Florence 
laid  under  interdict  by  Martin  V.,  iv. 


5S6 


INDEX. 


Florence  (Continued}. 

258  ;  war  of  the  Florentines  with  Six- 
tus  IV.,  447;  harsh  treatment  of 
Pisa  and  other  cities  by  Florence,  i. 
212,  237,  342,  560,  ii.  165 ;  Florence 
under  Savonarola,  i.  526-529;  the 
Siege  of  Florence,  222,  284  foil.,  319, 
536  note  2,  iii.  393,  414,  438  (see 
Savonarola) ;  Christ  declared  King 
of  Florence,  222,  526,  iii.  214,  308, 
358 ;  good-will  of  Florence  to  France, 
i.  518,  550  note  i,  583  note  2;  ex- 
pulsion of  the  Medici,  222,  561,  iii. 
389 ;  political  contrast  of  Florence 
and  Venice,  i.  221,  222  note  i,  231  ; 
comparison  of  Florence  and  Athens, 
234,  236,  306  note  2 ;  beauty  of  Flor- 
ence, 504,  561,  562,  ii.  322,  iii.  63 
(cp.  iv.  520) ;  festivals  of  medieval 
Florence,  iv.  50-58,  316-319,  520: 
of  Renaissance  Florence,  387-398 ; 
Florence  the  centre  of  the  true  Italic 
element  in  Italy,  iv.  141 ;  population 
of  Florence,  i.  197  note  2,  209,  256; 
effects  of  the  '  Black  Death '  at 
Florence,  259,  ii.  120,  iv.  ill,  v. 
191  ;  the  revenues  of  Florence,  i. 
255  ;  wealth  of  the  Florentines,  257 ; 
the  Guelf  laws  against  scioperati,  iv. 
27,  204 ;  commercial  spirit  of  the 
Florentines,  i.  224,  238,  245,  600  ; 
Florentine  intelligence,  232,  250,  504, 
505,  ii.  26,  iv.  45 :  compared  with 
the  Athenian,  i.  246  ;  fickleness  of  the 
Florentines,  236 ;  their  immorality, 
230,  476,  5°4»  iv-  337,  v.  8r,  358; 
illustrated  by  Machiavelli's  Comedies 
and  Letters,  v.  163,  165,  433:  by 
the  Capitoli,  355 ;  their  malicious 
temper,  iv.  150,  253,  255,  v.  79,  82; 
Florentine  manners  as  depicted  in 
Sacchetti's  Novelle.  iv.  149 :  in  Ales- 
sandra  Strozzi's  Letters,  176,  190 
note  i  ;  Florentine  conceptions  of 
nobility,  125  ;  Florence  the  centre 
of  intellectual  activity  in  Italy,  ii. 
1 08,  162,  250,  311,  iv.  349,  364, 
365  ;  leads  the  way  in  Italian  litertw 
ture,  ii.  394,  426,  iv.  27,  185,  243 ; 
part  played  by  Florence  in  the  history 
of  Italian  thought,  v.  452-454,  457, 
481 ;  favourable  conditions  presented 
by  Florence  for  the  growth  of  culture, 


Florence  (Continued). 

ii.  163;  services  of  the  Florentines  to 
historical  literature,  i.  248  foil.  ;  the 
share  taken  by  Florence  in  the  Re- 
naissance, v.  496  ;  the  main  elements 
of  Florentine  society  represented  sev- 
erally by  Dante,  Petrarch,  and  Boc- 
caccio, iv.  98  ;  eagerness  of  the  Flor- 
entines in  learning  Greek,  ii.  197  note 

1,  206,  '250  ;  early  Florentine  print- 
ers, 369,  376 ;  loss  of  the  Florentine 
supremacy  in  literature,  506  ;  archi- 
tecture of  the  Florentine  palaces  and 
churches,  iii.  59,  72;    Florentine  pre- 
eminence in  architecture  at  the  Re- 
naissance, 76;  influence  of  the  Flor- 
entine  painters    on    sculpture,    161  ; 
comparison  between  Florentine   and 
Venetian  art,  182,  354 ;  the  ovation 
of   Cimabue's    Madonna,     ii,    187; 
Florentine  influence  on  Italian  paint- 
ing, 261  ;  positive  and  scientific  char- 
acter of  the  Florentine  intellect   as 
shown  in   their  artistic  productions, 
182,  215,  221,  364,  iv.  128,  402 

Florence :  S.  Ambrogio,  Mino's  altar, 
iii.  158  note  i  :  the  Annunziata,  Del 
Sarto's,  Franciabigio's,  and  Ros?i's 
frescoes,  498  note  i  :  the  Bad'.a, 
monuments  by  Mino  da  Fiesole,  158; 
Filippino  Lippi's  '  Madonna  dictating 
her  Life  to  S.  Bernard,'  248  note  2  : 
the  Baptistery,  the  bronze  gates — the 
first  by  Andrea  Pisano,  119;  the  sec- 
ond and  third  by  Ghiberti,  128  :  the 
Carmine,  Masaccio's  frescoes,  229, 
231  ;  Filippino  Lippi's  frescoes,  248: 
the  Duomo,  built  by  public  decree, 
64 ;  its  proportions  criticised,  65 ; 
Arnolfo's  intentions,  66 ;  Brunelles- 
chi's  Dome,  67,  73,  74;  Giotto's 
Campanile,  63,  190,  iv.  251  ;  S.  Lo- 
renzo (by  Brunelleschi),  73,  393,  399, 
413;  Bronzino's  Christ  in  Limbo, 
499  note  I  ;  the  MeHicean  Chapel,  its 
marble  panelling.  79  note  3  ;  the  Sa- 
grestii  Nuova,  character  of  its  archi- 
tecture, 87,  414,  415  ;  tombs  of  the 
Medici,  i.  314,  319,  iii.  354,  377  note 

2,  393,    415-419,    420:    S.    Maria 
Maddalena  dei  Pazzi,  Perugino's  fresco 
of  the  Crucifixion,   295  :    S.    Maria 
Novella,    Cimabue's    Madonna,    iii. 


INDEX. 


587 


Florence:  S.  Ambrogio  (Continued). 
188  ;  Ghirlandajo's  Birth  of  the  Vir- 
gin, 259;  (Spagnuoli  Chapel),  its 
frescoes,  205  ;  (Strozzi  Chapels)  Fi- 
lippino  Lippi's  frescoes,  248  ;  Orcag- 
na's  frescoes,  199:  S.  Maria  Nuova, 
Fra  Bartolomeo's  Last  Judgment, 
306,  309,  331  :  S.  Miniato,  49 ; 
Rossellino's  monument  of  Cardinal  di 
Portogallo,  153;  Spinello's  frescoes 
in  the  sacristy,  220 :  Orsammichele 
(by  Taddeo  Gaddi  and  Orcagna),  63, 
124;  Orcagna's  tabernacle,  125; 
Donatello's  statue  of  S.  George,  138  ; 
Santa  Croce,  63  ;  Benedetto  da  Mai- 
ano's  pulpit,  160;  Giotto's  frescoes, 
190 :  S.  Trinita,  Desiderio's  statue 
of  the  Magdalen,  159  note  I ;  Ghir- 
landajo's Death  of  S.  Francis,  259  : 
S.  Spirito  (by  Brunelleschi),  73;  Ag- 
nolo's  Campanile,  86 

Florence :  Loggia  del  Bigallo  (by 
Orcagna),  125 ;  Loggia  de'  Lanzi 
(wrongly  ascribed  to  him),  125,  478 

—  Palazzo  Vecchio,  61-63;  —  del  Bar- 
gello,  Chapel  of  the  Podesta,  191 ;  — 
Pitti    (by  Brunelleschi),   73  ;  —  Ric- 
cardi  (by  Michelozzo),  59,  76 ;  Goz- 
zoli's  frescoes,    242 ;  —  Rucellai    (by 
Alberti),  ii.  342,  iii.  75  (see  also  Ru- 
cellai  Gardens,    the) ;  —  Strozzi    (by 
Benedetto  da  Maiano),  iii.  77 

—  Academy,  the,   founded  by  Cosimo 
de'    Medici,    ii.    177,    207 ;  influence 
exerted    by,    over    Italian    thought, 
207  ;  celebrations  of  Plato  by,  328 ; 
later  fortunes  of,  366 

Florence,  University,  the,  its  founda- 
tion, i.  259,  ii.  118;  establishment  of 
a  Greek  chair,,  ii.  106 ;  liberality  of 
the  Signory  to  the  University,  120; 
partial  transfer  of  the  High  School  to 
Pisa  by  Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  122,  v. 
497  ;  important  services  of  Palla  degli 
Strozzi  to  the  University,  ii.  166 

Florence,  Council  of,  impression  left  by, 
on  the  Florentines,  ii.  196,  206 

Fogliani,  Giovanni,  murder  of,  by  his 
nephew,  Oliverotto  da  Fermo,  i.  354 

Fojano,  Fra,  starved  to  death  in  the  dun- 
geons of  S.  Angelo,  iii.  468 

Folengo,  Teofilo  (Girolamo),  story  of 
his  life,  v.  312  ;  enters  the  Benedic- 


Folengo,  Teofilo  (Continued). 

tine  Order  (cp.  i  459);  leaves  the 
cloister,  v.  313;  resumes  the  cowl, 
313;  his  pseudonym, MerlinusCocaius, 
313  ;  said  to  have  once  contemplated 
writing  a  serious  Latin  Epic,  334 ;  his 
aim  at  originality,  334 ;  his  use  of  the 
Maccaronic  style,  335  :  the  Orlandino 
— freedom  of  its  satire.  314 ;  its  rough- 
ness of  style,  315  ;  the  introduction, 
316  ;  subject  of  the  poem,  317;  Ber- 
ta's  prayer,  318  (see  for  translation, 
Appendix  ii.) ;  the  story  of  how  pea- 
sants were  made,  319  (cp.  343  note  2); 
the  Resurrection,  320 ;  translated, 
320  ;  passage  on  the  woes  of  Italy,  i. 
101,  v.  320  note  i  ;  the  boyhood  of 
Orlandino,  321 ;  the  episode  of  Griff- 
arosto,  322  (see  for  translation,  Ap- 
pendix ii.)  ;  Rainero's  confession  of 
faith,  323  (see  for  translation,  Appen- 
dix ii.) ;  Lutheran  opinions  expressed 
in  the  Orlandino,  324,  486  ;  reasons 
why  Folengo's  religious  opinions  es- 
caped censure,  325  ;  relation  of  the 
Orlandino  to  the  Furioso,  326 :  the 
Maccaronea,  337;  its  loss  of  popular- 
ity, 337  ;  plot  of  the  poem.  337-345  ; 
satire  of  the  monks  and  clergy,  340  ; 
the  Court  of  Smirna  Gulfora  and  the 
extirpation  of  the  witches,  344,  348- 
350;  the  Entry  into  Hell,  350-352; 
probability  that  the  poem  was  written 
with  a  serious  aim,  352  ;  the  bitter- 
ness of  the  satire  increased  by  Folengo's 
consciousness  of  his  failure  in  life,  353 
note  i  (cp.  314) ;  value  of  the  Macca- 
ronea to  the  student  of  literature, 
353 :  the  Mosc/ieis,  334  note  2.  354  : 
the  Zanitonella,  354;  written  m 
mockery  of  the  fashionable  Arcadian 
poetry,  224,  354 

Folgore  da  San  Gemignano,  the  ques 
tion  of  his  date,  iv.  54  note  I,  163 
note  5 ;  his  Sonnets  on  the  Months 
and  Days,  54-57 ;  the  five  Sonnets 
on  the  Arming  of  a  Knight,  55  note  \ ; 
passage  on  the  triumph  of  Uguccione, 
163.  (See  Appendix  ii.  vol.  iv.  for 
translation  of  ten  Sonnets.) 

Fondulo,  Gabrino,  his  massacre  of  the 
Cavalcabo  family,  i.  120 ;  leader  of 
Condottieri  under  Gian  Galeazzo  Vis- 


538 


INDEX. 


Fondulo,  Gabrino  (Continued). 

conti,  150;  story  of  his  taking  the 
Pope  and  the  Emperor  up  the  Tower 
of  Cremona,  463  note  I 

Fontana,  Domenico,  his  work  at  S. 
Peter's,  iii.  93 

Forgeries,  literary,  frequency  of,  at  the 
Renaissance,  ii.  156  note  2 

Form  preferred  to  matter  by  the  Human- 
ists, ii.  471,  513,  514 

Fornovo,  battle  of,  i.  580,  iii.  275  note  i 

Fortiguerra,  Scipione,  prefixes  a  Greek 
letter  to  Aldo  Manuzio's  edition  of 
Aristotle,  ii.  382  ;  a  member  of  the 
Aldine  Academy,  385 

Fortini,  Pietro,  his  Novelle,  v.  60,  97 

Fortunio,  Francesco,  his  suicide  during 
the  Sack  of  Rome,  ii.  445 

Foscari,  Francesco,  i.  155;  his  policy 
and  execution  by  the  Council  of  Ten, 
215  note  I  :  Jacopo,  215  :  Marco,  his 
Reports  cited,  211  note  2,  221  note  i, 
230  note  i ,  238  note  1 ,  597  note  2 

Fossa,  Evangelista,  writer  of  Macca- 
ronic  poems,  v.  331  note  2,  332 

Fracastorius,  his  Syphilis,  i.  567  note  r, 
ii  477-481 ;  his  adulatory  verses,  ii. 
481,496;  his  Veronese  birth,  illus- 
trating the  movement  of  culture  from 
Tuscany  to  Lombardy,  506;  his 
friendship  with  Berni,  v.  363 

Fra  Moriale,  leader  of  Condottieri,  i. 
86 

Francesco  da  Bologna  (i.e.  probably 
Francia,  the  painter),  cuts  the  Italian 
type  for  Aldo  Manuzio,  ii.  381 

Francesco  da  Montepulciano,  Frate,  his 
preaching  at  Florence,  i.  621 

Francia,  Francesco,  probably  identical 
with  Francesco  da  Bologna,  ii.  381 
note  i ;  religious  feeling  and  beauty 
of  his  works,  iii.  303;  adhered  to  the 
earlier  manner  of  painting.  303,  365 

Frauciabigio.  his  frescoes  in  the  Annun- 
ziata,  Florence,  iii.  498  note  i 

Francis  I.  of  France,  i.  518,  584  ;  num- 
ber of  Italian  artists  invited  by  him 
to  France,  iii.  444 ;  summons  Cellini 
to  his  Court,  473  ;  his  visit  to  Cellini, 
443  note  i  ;  his  character  as  described 
by  Cellini,  473 ;  his  patronage  of  Are- 
tino  and  presents  to  him,  v.  400, 
404 


Francis  of  Holland,  his  record  of  the 
conversations  of  Michelangelo  and 
Vittoria  Colonna,  iii.  434,  v.  293 

Francis,  S.,  his  revival  of  religion,  iii. 
182  (cp.  iv.  296) ;  contrast  of  S. 
Francis  and  S.  Dominic,  iii.  205  ;  his 
first  poetry  composed  in  French,  iv. 
16;  his  Cantico  del  Sole,  40,  73 

Franciscans,  the,  imprison  Roger  Ba- 
con, i.  10  ;  reasons  for  the  popular 
hatred  of  them,  459 ;  their  religious 
poetry,  iv.  295;  their  quarrel  with  the 
Benedictines,  v.  325 

Franco,  Matteo,  his  quarrel  with  Luigi 
Pulci,  iv.  431,  455  note  3 

—  Niccol6,  his  relations  to  Aretino,  v. 
419,  420  ;  quarrels  with  Aretino,42i ; 
writes  satirical  Sonnets  against  him, 
381,  421  ;  composes  a  Latin   Com- 
mentary on  the  Priapea,  421  ;  taken 
and  hanged,  421 

—  Veronica,  v.  288 
Franco-Italian,  the  language   produced 

by  the  mixture  of  French  and  Italian, 
iv.  15,  19 
Franzesi,     Mattio,    his     Capitoli,     v. 

364 

Frate  di  S.  Marco,  the,  his  preaching 
at  Milan,  i.  620 

Frateschi,  name  of  the  followers  of  Sa- 
vonarola at  Florence,  i.  529 

Fraticelli,  the,  an  heretical  sect  of  the 
Franciscan  Order,  i.  9 

Frederick  Barbarossa,  his  war  with  the 
Lombard  cities,  L  63,  64,  67  ;  his  de- 
feat at  Legnano,  42,  64,  95 

Frederick  of  Naples,  i.  552,  574,  575 
note  i 

Frederick  II.,  the  Emperor,  his  warfare 
with  the  Church,  i.  10,  41,  68,  ii.  251, 
iv.  6,  279  ;  establishes  a  Saracen  col- 
ony at  Nocera,  i.  105,  156  (cp.  iv.  280); 
began  the  system  of  government  after- 
wards pursued  by  the  despots,  105- 
107  ;  his  terror  under  excommunica- 
tion, 133  note  I ;  founds  the  Univer- 
sity of  Naples  and  attempts  to  sup- 
press that  of  Bologna,  ii.  1 16 ;  his 
cultivation  of  vernacular  literature, 
251  (cp.  i.  10),  iv.  6,  21  ;  Italian  tes- 
timonies to  his  character,  iv.  21 ; 
probably  influenced  by  political  mo- 
tives in  his  cultivation  of  Italian  liter- 


INDEX. 


589 


Frederick  II.  (Continued). 

ature,  22 ;  his  temper  not  in  unison 

with  that  of  his  age,  61 
Frederick   III.,    the  Emperor,  i.   100 

163 ;  story  of  the  Florentine  embassy 

which  went  to  congratulate  him,  ii. 

190  ;  representation  of  the  Passion  in 

his  honour  at  Naples,  iv.  315 
Fregosi,    the,    at    Genoa,   i.  201  ;  two 

Fregosi   introduced    in   Castiglione's 

Cortegiano,  i.  184,  v.  257  note  i 
Fregoso,  Cesare,  v.  64 
French,  widely- spread  use  of,  by  medi- 
eval Italian  writers,  iv.  16 
Frescobaldi,  Matteo,  his  political  poems, 

iv.  163 
Frezzi,  Frederigo,  his  Quadriregio,  iv. 

168-171  ;  its  confusion  of  Christian 

and  antique  motives,  169 
Friola,  capture  of,  i.  108 
Froben,  John,  i.  23 ;  prints  the  Greek 

Testament,  ii.  391 
Fulvio,  Andrea,  his  Antiqiiities  of  Rome, 

ii.  428 
Fusina,  Andrea,  works  in  concert  with 

Amadeo  at  the  Certosa,    Pavia,  iii. 

164 

GADDI,  Cardinal,  attacked  by  Are- 
tino,  v.  402  note  i  ;  makes  terms 
with  him,  402 

Gaddi,  the,  scholars  of  Giotto,  iii.  197, 
226 

—  Gaddo,  supposed  to  have  worked  on 
the  frescoes  of  Assisi,  196 :  Taddeo, 
his  work  as  architect  at  Orsammi- 
chele,  Florence,  iii.  124;  the  painter  of 
the  Triumph  of  S.  Thomas  Aquinas, 
in  S.  Maria  Novella,  205  note  i 

Galileo,  his  services  to  modern  science, 
i.  29,  v.  518;  his  trial  before  the  In- 
quisition, v.  462  note  i,  478 

Gallo,  Antonio  di  San,  iii.  76,  v.  505 ; 
his  skill  in  military  engineering,  iii. 
86  ;  his  work  at  S.  Peter's,  91,  398  : 
Giuliano  di  San,  ii.  431,  iii.  76;  his 
work  at  S.  Peter's,  iii.  91  :  Francesco 
di  San,  his  letter  on  the  discovery  of 
the  Laocoon,  ii.  431 

Gambacorti,  the,  of  Pisa,  their  rise  to 
power,  i.  1 14  ;  their  downfall,  147 

Gambara,  Veronica,  her  virtues,  v.  289  ; 
her  poems,  289;  society  gathered 


Gambara,  Veronica  (Continued). 

round  her,  289 ;  her  correspondence 
with  Aretino,  408  note  \ 
Gandia,  Duke  of,  son  of  Alexander  VI 
by  Vanozza  Catanei,  i.  419;  story  of 
his  murder,  424 
Garfagnana,  Ariosto's  governorship  of, 

iv.  500-502,  514 
Garofalo,    Benvenuto,  character  of  his 

paintings,  iii.  502 

Garter,  the,  conferred  on  Frederick  of 
Urbino  by  Henry  VII.,  i.  iJJi;  on 
Guidobaldo,  his  son,  ii.  420 
Gasparino  da  Barzizza,  the  initiator  of 
Latin   epistolography,   ii.    107,  531 ; 
his  position  at  Milan,  266 
Gasparino  of  Verona,  his  panegyric  of 

Alexander  VI.,  i.  408 
Gaza,  Theodorus,  translates  Aristotle's 
History    of   Animals,    for    Nicholas 
V.,    ii.    229;   joins   in   the    contro- 
versy of  Bessarion  and  Trapezuntius, 
248 
Gelati,  the,  an  Academy  at  Bologna,  ii. 

366 

Gelli,  his  Comedies,  v.  124,  146  note  i, 
181,   186,   187;  took  Machiavelli  as 
his  model,  187 
Generosity,  admiration  of  the  Italians 

for  this  virtue,  iv.  356 
Genezzano,  Fra  Mariano  da,  preaching 

of,  i.  506,  522. 

Gennadius,   Patriarch  of  Constantino- 
ple,   his  controversy  with   Gemistos 
Plethon,  ii.  209 
Genoa,  annexed  to  the  Milanese,  i.  136, 
568 ;  Constitution  of  1528,  201 ;  in- 
tellectual and  artistic  backwardness  of 
Genoa,  ii.  212,  iii.  181  note  i,  v.497  ; 
building  of  the  Mole  and  Aqueduct  at 
Genoa,  iii.  42 ;  architecture  of  the 
Genoese  palaces,  59,  v.  498 ;  the  Ge- 
noese painters,  v.  498 
—  S.  Maria  di  Carignano,  iii.  96 
Jentile  da  Fabriano,  his  studies  in  nat- 
ural history,  iii.  226 ;  peculiarities  of 
his  genius,  238  ;  his  power  of  colour- 
ing, 349 
Gentile,  Girolamo,  his  attempt  against 

Galeazzo  Sforza,  i.  168 
Gentleman,   notion   of  the  gentleman 
formed  by  Italians,  i.  184-189,  192, 
ii.  408 


59° 


INDEX. 


Ghibellines  and  Guelfs,  quarrel  of,  i.  38, 
61,  69,  70,  71/72,  73,  74,  80, 95,  101, 
206,  221,  584,  ii.  57,  iv.  159-164, 

3.6? 

Ghiberti,  Lorenzo  di  Cino,  cited  for  the 
enthusiasm  of  sculptors  over  the  re- 
mains of  ancient  art,  ii.  432,  iii.  134; 
his  work  as  a  bronze  founder  in  Ital- 
ian churches,  iii.  78  note  i ;  his  treat- 
ment of  the  story  of  the  creation  of 
Adam  and  Eve,  118  note  2,  130;  his 
designs  in  competition  for  the  Bap- 
tistery Gates  at  Florence,  127;  criti- 
cism of  his  model,  129  ;  his  introduc- 
tion of  picturesque  treatment  into 
sculpture,  ii.  8,  iii.  132,  141 ;  reckons 
in  his  commentaries  by  Olympiads, 
iii.  135  ;  not  really  a.fected  by  the 
Paganism  of  the  Renaissance,  1 35 

Ghirlandajo,  Domenico,  his  influence 
over  Benedetto  da  Maiano,  iii.  160 ; 
his  great  qualities  and  prosaic  plain- 
ness, 161,  258-261,  262 

Ghislieri,  a  poet  of  Bologna,  iv.  48 

Giacomini,  Antonio,  aids  Machiavelli  in 
his  plan  for  a  national  militia,  i.  313 
note  i 

Giacomino,  Fra,  his  works  written  in  a 
North  Italian  dialect  for  popular  use, 

iv.  34 

Giacomo  of  Florence,  his  wood-panel- 
ling at  Urbino,  iii.  78  note  2 

Giamboni,  Bono,  reputed  author  of 
many  early  popular  Italian  works,  iv. 
129;  translates  Latini's  Tesoro  into 
Italian,  130 

Gianni,  Lapo,  comparison  of  his  Amor 
eo  chero  with  Folgore's  Poems  on  the 
Months,  iv.  56  note  i 

Giannotti,  Donato,  on  tyrannicide,  i. 
169;  on  citizenship,  196  (cp.  iii.  55); 
influenced  by  Aristotle,  197  note  i, 
250  note  i  ;  his  translation  of  the 
word  ijOor,  200  note  \  \  assigns  to 
Savonarola  the  authorship  of  the 
Florentine  constitution,  202  note  2 ; 
his  estimation  of  the  population  of 
Venice,  210;  cited  for  the  factions  «J 
Siena,  207  note  2  ;  cited,  216  note  I, 
217  note  i ;  his  description  of  the  cor- 
ruption of  the  State  of  Florence,  231  ; 
his  admiration  of  the  Venetian  polity, 
234;  cited  for  the  trading  spirit  of 


i  Giannotti,  Donato  {Continued). 

Florence,  238 ;  his  Florentine  His- 
tory, 278  ;  his  democratic  spirit,  280 ; 
his  advocacy  of  the  Governo  Misto, 
283  ;  cited  for  Italian  notions  of 
honour,  485  note  i 

Giano  della  Bella,  i.  225  note  i 

Giasone  de  Nores,  his  panegyric  of  Tri- 
fone  (in  the  Commentary  on  the  Ars 
Poetica\  v.  253  note  i 

Giberti,  Giammatteo,  made  Bishop  of 
Verona  by  Clement  VII.,  ii.  403  ;  his 
patronage  of  Berni,  v.  357,  390  note 
I ;  his  animosity  against  Aretino, 
390;  becomes  reconciled  to  him,  402 
note  i 

Gieremei,  Bonifazio,  i.  74 

Giocondo,  Fra,  his  collection  of  Roman 
inscriptions,  ii.  429  ;  his  work  at  S. 
Peter's,  iii.  91 

Gioja,  said  to  have  discovered  the  com- 
pass, i.  29 

Giorgi,  Marino,  Venetian  ambassador, 
cited  for  Leo's  '  Let  us  enjoy  the  Pa- 
pacy,' i.  437  ;  for  the  refusal  of  Giuli- 
ano,  Duke  of  Nemours,  to  take  the 
Duchy  of  Urbino,  438  note  I 

Giorgio,  Francesco  di,  architect  of  pal- 
aces at  Pienza,  iii.  75 

Giorgio,  Francesco  di,  cited  for  the 
character  of  Frederick,  Duke  of  Ur- 
bino, i.  \-jbnote  i 

Giorgione,  greatness  of  his  genius,  iii. 
366 ;  fate  of  his  works,  366 ;  his 
power  in  depicting  tranquillised  emo- 
tion, 367 

Giottino,  the  scholar  of  Giotto,  iii.  197 

Giotto,  the  Campanile  at  Florence,  iii. 
63,  190,  iv.  251  ;  his  work  in  S.  Fran- 
cis', Assisi,  iii.  117,  190,  195;  his 
genius  pictorial,  120,  177  ;  story  of 
Cimabue's  finding  him,  as  a  child, 
drawing,  190,  191 ;  amount  of  his 
work,  190 ;  his  fidelity  to  nature, 
191 ;  advances  made  by  him  in  paint- 
ing, 192  ;  his  power  of  representation, 
193  ;  excellence  of  his  allegories,  194 ; 
mention  of  him  by  Petrarch,  217  note 
I  ;  influenced  by  Dante,  283  note  2  ; 
his  ode  on  Poverty,  iv.  39  note  I, 
243  (cp.  iii.  124,  194) 
Giovanni  da  Capistrano,  Fra,  i.  490; 
his  preaching  at  Brescia,  615 


INDEX. 


591 


Giovanni  da  Imola,  his  salary  from  the 
University  of  Padua,  ii.  122 

Giovanni  da  Ravenna,  Petrarch's  secre- 
tary, ii.  98  ;  the  first  of  the  vagabond 
Humanists,  99  ;  his  influence,  100 

Giovanni,  Ser  (of  Florence),  his  Novelle, 
iv.  1 50  ;  called  his  work  //  Pecorone, 
150 ;  poverty  of  the  framework  of  the 
Novelle,  151  ;  their  antiquarian  inter- 
est, 151 ;  one  novel  the  source  of  the 
Merchant  of  Venice,  152  note  \  ;  re- 
vision of  the  Novelle  by  Domemchi, 
152  note  2  ;  Giovanni  as  a  poet,  152 

Giovanni  da  Udine,  the  scholar  of  Ra- 
phael, iii.  490 

Giovanni,  Fra,  da  Verona,  his  work  as 
a  wood-carver  at  Monte  Oliveto  and 
Naples,  iii.  78  note  2 

Giovio,  Paolo,  his  description  of  Azzo 
Visconti,  i.  134:  of  Gian  Galeazzo, 
141,  142  note  I  :  of  the  marriage  of 
Violante  Visconti,  138  ;  his  concep- 
tion of  history,  249  note  2 ;  his  un- 
trustworthiness,  292  note  2,  ii.  354 
note  i,  417,  512;  his  account  of 
Machiavelli's  education,  310;  praises 
the  massacre  of  Sinigaglia,  324 ;  his 
criticism  of  Machiavelli's  Art  of  War, 
330 ;  believed  that  Alexander  VI. 
died  of  poison,  429,  430 ;  on  Lodo- 
vico  Sforza,  547  note  2  ;  on  Poliziano's 
personal  appearance,  ii.  350  note  i ; 
his  account  of  Poliziano's  death,  ii. 
354  note  I ;  his  description  of  Polizi- 
ano's poetry,  iv.  407  ;  made  Bishop 
of  Nocera,  ii.  402,  417;  his  versa- 
tility of  talent,  417;  his  criticism  of 
Navagero,  485  note  3  ;  relates  that 
Navagero  suffered  from  atra  bilis, 
487  ;  his  confession  that  culture  had 
left  Italy,  544;  his  correspondence 
with  Aretino,  v.  410  note  I  ;  relates 
that  Pomponazzi  was  ignorant  of 
Greek,  459 

Giraldi,  Giovanbattista.     (Sec  Cinthio.) 

Giunta  of  Pisa,  said  to  have  worked  on 
the  frescoes  of  Assisi,  iii.  196 

Giunta,  the  Roman  printer,  his  piracies 
on  Aldo  Manuzio,  ii.  379  note  2\ 
publishes  the  Lysistrata  and  TAes- 
maphoriazusfE  of  Aristophanes,  382 

Giunti,  the,  printers  at  Venice,  v.  374 ; 
Giunta  prints  the  mutilated  version  of 


Giunti,  the  (Continued). 

Boiardo's  ri/acimfhto  of  t]\e  Orlando 
Innumorato,  374  ;  acknowledges  the 
fact  of  the  mutilation  in  a  second  edi- 
tion, 374,  377 

Giuho  Romano,  his  decoration  of  the 
Palazzo  del  Te,  ii.  440,  iii.  83,  492, 
iv.  403,  v.  389;  his  architectural 
work  at  Rome,  iii.  83  ;  his  superin- 
tendence of  S.  Peter's,  91 ;  the  only 
great  master  produced  by  Rome,  184 ; 
his  occasional  coarseness  and  vulgar- 
ity, 454,  492  ;  driven  from  Rome  for 
designing  a  series  of  obscene  figures, 
v.  389 

Giustiniani,  the,  their  patronage  of  learn- 
ing at  Venice,  ii.  212 

—  Venetian  ambassador,  his  testimony 
to    the   death   of  Alexander  VI.   by 
apoplexy,  1.430;  mentions  the  legend 
that  Alexander  had  sold   his  soul  to 
the  devil,  431 :    Lionardo,  procures 
Filelfo  a  Secretaryship  at  Constanti- 
nople, ii.  267 

Giuslode'Conti,  his  Canzoniere,  iv.  165 

Gil  Otto,  name  of  Council  in  some  Ital- 
ian cities,  i.  35 

Goldsmith's  work,  all  the  earlier  Floren- 
tine artists  served  an  apprenticeship 
to  this  art,  iii.  124,  442 

Gonfaloniere  di  Giustizia,  a  name  of 
office  in  some  Italian  cities,  i.  35  ;  at 
Florence,  224 

Gonzaga,  the,  at  Mantua,  i.  145  ;  how 
they  became  tyrants,  112,  148  note  I  ; 
members  of  this  family  become  Con- 
dottieri,  161 ;  distinguish  themselves 
at  Fornovo,  580  note  I 

—  Alessandro,  educated  by  Vittorino  da 
Feltre,   177,   ii.   297  :  Camilla,  Mol- 
za's  attachment  to  her,  v.  226  :  Carlo, 
the  pupil  of  Vittorino  da  Feltre,  ii. 
293 ;  betrays  Milan  to  Sforza,  281 : 
Cecilia,    educated    by   Vittorino    da 
Feltre,  i.    177,    ii.   297 :  Cesare,    v. 
122:  Elisabetta,  i.   182,  184:  Fran- 
cesco, (i)   147 ;  commands  at   For- 
novo, 580,  iii.  275  note  I  ;  letter  of, 
to  his  wife,  quoted  for  the  account  of 
Alexander   VI. 's  death,  i.  43 '    note 
I,  432  :  (2)  Cardinal,  his  patronage  of 
scholars,  ii.  404  (cp.  iii.  277  note  i) ; 
causes  Poliziano  to  write  the  Orjso, 


592 


INDEX. 


Gonzaga,  Alessandro  (Continued). 
iii.  277  note  i>  iv.  411  :  (3)  a  wild 
libertine  student  at  Bologna,  v.  312, 
314:  Gian  Francesco,  (i)  his  murder 
of  his  wife,  i.  1 19  note  2  :  (2)  sum- 
mons Vittorino  da  Feltre  to  Mantua, 
176,  ii.  291,  295  :  Gianlucido,  edu- 
cated by  Vittorino  da  Feltre,  i.  177, 
ii.  297 :  Isabella,  her  reception  at 
Rome  by  Leo  X.,  v.  146  :  Lodovico, 
the  pupil  of  Vittorino  da  Feltre,  ii. 
291,  iii.  276;  his  reception  of  Filelfo, 
ii.  285  ;  invites  Mantegna  to  Mantua, 
iii.  276  :  Lucrezia,  Bandello  her  tu- 
tor, v.  64,  65 :  Ugolino,  i.  134 ;  his 
murder,  119  note  2 

Gorboduc,  tragedy  of,  praised  by  Sir 
Philip  Sidney,  v.  132  note  I ;  illus- 
trates the  character  of  the  Italian 
tragedies,  1 36 

Gorello,  Ser,  quoted  for  the  character  of 
Bishop  Guido  Tarlati  of  Arezzo,  i. 

83 
Goritz,  John,  why  called  Corydus,  ii. 

397  ;  his  entertainments  of  the  Roman 
Academy,  409 ;  his  sufferings  hi  the 
Sack  of  Rome,  4/14 

Gothic  architecture,  its  rarity  in  Rome, 
iii.  46 ;  never  understood  by  the 
Italians,  50,  66,  69,  iv.  345,  v.  505 

Gothic,  Italian,  its  mixed,  exotic  char- 
acter, iii.  50 ;  its  relations  to  Northern 
styles,  iv.  312 

Goths,  policy  of  the  Goths  in  Italy,  i.  94 

Governo  Misto,  the  ideal  government  of 
Italian  statesmen,  i.  283,  306,  ii.  319 

Gozzoli,  Benozzo,  his  repetition  of 
Traini's  Triumph  of  S.  Thomas,  iii. 
208 ;  character  of  his  genius,  241 
(cp.  iv.  261  note  2,  372,  463) ;  various 
works  of  his,  242 ;  his  excellence  in 
portraying  idyllic  subjects,  243 ;  em- 
ployed by  Cosimo  de'  Medici  to  paint 
his  private  chapel,  263 

Gran  Consiglio,  in  Italian  cities,  i.  35, 

57,  7i 
Granacci,     Francesco,     Michelangelo's 

friend  in  boyhood,  iii.  386 
Gravina,  praised  the  Italia  Li&erata'vf 

Trissino,  v.  307 
Graziani,  quoted   for  the  preaching   of 

San  Bernardino,  i.  613 ;  for  Fra  Ja- 

copo  and  Fra  Roberto  da  Lecce,  614 


Grazzini,  Antonfrancesco.     (See  Lasca.  ' 
II.) 

Greece  and  Italy,  contrasts  and  resem- 
blances of,  i.  195,  205,  237,  ii.  4,  10, 

.16,  43»  5'3,  »«•  i»  "i.  355,  410-412, 
iv.  45,  117,  v.  112;  contract  between 
Greek  and  Christian  religious  notions, 
iii.  12,  136 

Greek,  utter  ignorance  of,  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  ii.  66,  94 ;  importance  of  the 
study  of  Greek,  112;  probability 
that  the  lost  Greek  classics  perished 
before  the  fall  of  Constantinople,  141; 
impression  produced  by  the  Greek 
visitors  to  the  Council  of  Florence, 
197  ;  Greek  studies  owed  less  to  the 
Byzantine  than  to  the  Italian  scholars, 
197,  250;  the  first  Greek  books  print- 
ed in  Italy,  368,  375,  377,  382,  405 
note  i ;  the  first  in  Northern  Europe, 
391  note  2  ;  Greek  hardly  studied  in 
Italy  by  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 

t»ry»  543 
Greene,  Robert,  the  dramatist,  quoted 

for  Italian  immorality,  i.  473 
Gregoropoulos,  John,  the  reader  in  Al- 

do  Manuzio's  Greek  Press,  ii.  378  ;  a 

member  of  the  Aldine  Academy,  387 
Gregory  the  Great,  i.  50;  his  contempt 

for  grammatical  correctness,  ii.  6l 
Gregory  VI.,  i.  59 
Gregory  VII.     (See  Hildebrand.) 
Gregory  IX.,  war  of,  with  Frederick  II., 

iv.  279 

Gregory  XL,  113  note  I 
Gregory   XII.,   makes  Antonio   Losco 

Apostolic  Secretary,  ii.  218 
Gregory  of  Tours,  cited  for  medieval 

contempt  of  antiquity,  ii.  60 
Gritti,    Andrea,    Doge  of  Venice,   his 

patronage  of  Aretino,  v.  395 :   Luigi 

(son  of  the  Doge),  gives  Aretino  a 

pension,  395 
Grocin,  his  endeavours  to  introduce  the 

study  of  Greek  into  England,  ii.  388, 

391 

Guardi,  his  sketch  of  a  Masked  Ball  in 
the  Council  Chamber,  Ducal  Palace, 
Venice,  iii.  358 

Guarini,  Battista,  shows  the  completion 
of  the  Italian  reaction  against  the 
middle  ages,  v.  244 ;  the  Pastor  Fido 
with  Tasso's  Aminta  the  perfection 


INDEX. 


593 


Guarini,  Battista  (Continued). 

of  the  Italian  pastoral  drama,  114, 
223,  241,  511;  essentially  lyrical 
nature  of  the  Pastor  Fido^  242  ;  its 
central  motive  the  opposition  of  an 
ideal  world  of  pleasure  to  the  world 
of  facts  and  laws,  242 

Guarino  da  Verona,  the  tutor  of  Lion- 
ellod'Este,  i.  171, 173,  ii.  299 ;  a  scho- 
lar of  Giovanni  da  Ravenna,  ii,  100; 
brings  Greek  MSS.  to  Italy,  141, 
267 ;  obliged  to  leave  Florence  by 
Niccol6's  opposition,  182;  his  trans- 
lation of  Strabo,  228 ;  his  quarrels 
with  Poggio  and  other  scholars,  240, 
301 ;  his  praise  of  Beccadelli's  Her- 
maphroditus,  255,  301,  514;  his  friend- 
ship with  Filelfo,  267  ;  his  success  as 
a  teacher  at  Ferrara,  300  (cp.  473, 
537)  >  his  nobility  of  character,  301, 

523 

Gubbio,  the  Pottery  of,  i.  So 

Gucci,  Agostino  di.  (See  Duccio,  Agos- 
tino  di.) 

Guelfs  and  Ghibellines,  quarrel  of,  i.  38, 
61,  69.  70,  71,  72,  73,  74,  80,  95, 
lor,  206,  221,  584,  ii.  57,  iv.  159- 
164,  367 

Guicciardini,  Francesco,  his  life  and 
character,  i.  295-301 ;  pleads  the  cause 
of  Alessandro  de'  Medici  before 
Charles  V.,  232,  280,  298;  his  ser- 
vices to  the  Medici,  280,  285,  297 ; 
his  cynicism,  278,  291,  302,  v.  446; 
portrait  of  him  in  Ariosto's  Satires, 
iv.  515;  comparison  of  Guicciardini 
and  Machiavelli,  v.  446;  differences  of 
opinion  between  Guicciardini  and 
Machiavelli,  i.  44,  45  note  i,  91: 
the  Comment  on  the  Discorsi  of  Ma- 
chiavelli, 306  note  2 ;  the  Governo 
Misto  (cp.  passage  cited  from  the 
Reggimento  di  F.,  306) ;  the  decay  of 
Italy  due  to  the  Papacy,  451  (cp.  pas- 
sage cited  from  the  Ricordi,  382,  452): 
the  Istoria  d*  Italia,  300-303  :  the 
murder  of  the  Manfredi,  428  note  i  ; 
the  death  of  Alexander  VI.  ascribed  i 
to  poison,  429 ;  the  joy  in  Rome  at  ; 
Alexander's  death,  431  ;  character  of 
Julius  II.,  434  note  I,  552  note  3;  the 
effect  of  the  murder  of  Gian  Galeazzo 
Sforza,  480  note  2,  556;  character  of 


Guicciardini,  Francesco  (Continued). 
Charles  VIII.,  540,  547  ;  of  Lodovico 
Sforza,  548  note  2  ;  the  French  in- 
vasion, 549,  582  ;  believes  that  it  was 
guided  by  Providence,  553  note  i  • 
the  reception  of  Charles  at  Naples  by 
Pontanus,  ii.  363;  the  Reggimento  di 
Firenze,  304-308  :  the  ideal  govern- 
ment of  Florence,  223  note  i ;  the 
motives  of  tyrannicide,  iCg;  the  cor- 
ruption of  Florence,  229 ;  the  Vene- 
tian polity,  306 ;  his  admiration  for 
Venice,  234,  299  ;  the  Governo  Misto^ 
306  (cp.  passage  cited  from  the  Reg- 
gimento di  F.,  note  2);  the  account 
of  Savonarola,  304  (cp.  passage  cittd 
from  the  Storia  Fiorentina,  308,  512 
note  i);  \bsRicordi,  308,  v.  446,  519; 
the  disunion  of.Italy,  92  note  I ;  '  the 
blood  of  the  citizens  the  mortar  of  ty- 
ranny,' 131,  298  note  2  ;  the  faults  of 
democracy,  306  note  i ;  use  of  the 
word /0/0/fl,  306;  Guicciardini's  con- 
ception of  history,  i.  249  note  2  ;  the 
faith  of  the  Florentine  patriots  in 
Savonarola  during  the  siege,  284  note 
i,  536  notf  2 ;  the  character  of  the 
Medici,  298  note  2,  299  note  2  ;  the 
decay  of  Italy  clue  to  the  Papacy, 
382.  452  (cp.  passage  cited  from  the 
Comment  on  the  Discorsi  of  Machia- 
velli, 451) ;  the  balance  of  power  cre- 
ated in  Italy  by  Lorenzo  de'  Medici, 
404  note  2 ;  the  Storia  Fiorentina, 
278,  279,  308;  the  suspicious  temper 
of  Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  119  note  i ;  his 
sensuality,  iv.  385  ncte  i ;  his  policy, 
386 ;  policy  of  Cosimo  de'  Medici,  i. 
229  notes  i  and  2,  ii.  170  (for  the 
Medici  cp.  also  i.  298  note  2,  299  note 
2) ;  the  account  of  Savonarola,  i.  308, 
512  note  i  (cp.  passage  cited  from  the 
Reggimento  di  Firenze,  i.  301);  char- 
acter of  Alexander  VI.,  i.  412,  417 
note  i  (see  also  Appendix  iii.  vol.  i.) 

Guicciardini,  Luigi,  his  account  of  Cle- 
ment's behaviour  at  the  sack  of  Rome, 
444 

Guicciardini,  Francesco  and  Luigi,  men- 
tioned together,  i  197  note  i,  203 
note  I,  230 

Guidalotto,  Francesco,  murders  Biordo 
Michelotti,  i.  148  note  2 


594 


INDEX. 


Guidirci.  Mario,  his  Dissertations  on 
Michelangelo's  Sonnets,  v.  297 

Guidiccioni,  Giovanni,  Bishop  of  Fos- 
sombrone,  his  letters,  quoted  for  the 
profligacy  of  Rome,  i.  446  note  i, 
459  note  2,  v.  190,  387  note  I ;  his 
Poems,  their  patriotic  feeling,  v.  282, 
520;  Gyraldus'  criticism  of  them, 
282 ;  translation  of  a  sonnet,  282 ; 
his  correspondence  with  Aretino,  410 
note  i 

Guido  delle  Colonne,  iv.  5  note  i,  25 

Guido  da  Siena,  the  earliest  of  the 
Sienese  painters,  iii.  214 

Guidotto,  of  Bologna,  iv.  48 ;  reputed 
author  of  many  early  popular  Italian 
works,  129 

Guilds,  their  importance  in  Italy,  i.  72, 
72  note  i 

Guinicelli,  Guido.  his  services  to  Italian 
poetry,  iv.  46  ;  Dante's  praise  of  him, 
47  ;  his  treatment  of  love,  61 

Guiniforte  (son  of  Gasparino  da  Bar- 
tizza),  tutor  of  Francesco  Sforza's 
children,  ii.  266 

Guinizzi,  family  of  the,  at  Lucca,  i.  148 

Guittone  of  Arezzo,  importance  of  his 
Epistles  in  the  history  of  Italian 
prose,  iv.  36,  45,  130;  his  Poems 
mentioned  with  contempt  by  Dante, 
46 ;  his  religious  poems,  73 

Gyraldus,  Lilius,  on  the  Academy  of 
Naples,  ii.  365  ;  cited  for  the  purism 
of  Italian  scholars,  398  ;  teacher  at 
the  High  School  of  Ferrara,  427, 
506 ;  his  criticism  of  Poliziano's 
Sylva,  459 ;  of  Sannazzaro's  De 
Partu  Virgtnis,  469  note  \  ;  of  Bern- 
bo's  Latin  verses,  484 ;  of  Guidic- 
cioni's  Poems,  v.  282  ;  his  attack  on 
the  Humanists,  ii.  518,  530  ;  his  de- 
nunciations of  the  immorality  of  the 
Italian  stage,  v.  192 

HADRIAN,  Cardinal,  concerned  in 
Pitrucci's  conspiracy,  i.  437 
Heematomania,  i.  109  (see  Appendix   i. 

vol.  i.)  »^ 

Hawkwood,  John,  Sir,  i.    113  note  i, 

362 

Hegel,  his  criticism  of  Machiavelli's 
Prince,  i.  367  ;  his  saying  that  archi- 
tecture preceded  the  other  arts,  iii.  40 


Henry  II.  of  France,  appoints  Bandello 
bishop  of  Agen,  v.  64 

Henry  VII.  the  Emperor,  marches  into 
Italy,  i.  76  ;  his  death,  77,  80 

Henry  VII.  of  England,  confers  the 
Garter  on  Frederick  of  Urbino,  i. 
181 ;  on  Guidobaldo,  his  son.  ii.  420 

Henry  VIII.  invites  Torrigiano  to  Eng- 
land, iii.  4/j/) ;  makes  a  present  to 
Aretino,  v.  405 

Henry  the  German,  an  early  printer,  ii. 

376 

Heribert,  Archbishop  of  Milan,  i.  58 

Heywood,  the  Cliallenge  for  Beauty 
quoted  for  the  character  of  Italian 
plays,  v.  m  (cp.  189) 

Hildebrand,  made  Pope,  i.  59  ;  declares 
war  on  the  Empire,  60 ;  his  arrogn- 
tion  of  spiritual  autocracy,  411 

Historians,  the  Florentine,  i.  246  foil. 
(see  also  under  the  names  of  the  vari- 
ous writers)  ;  contrast  of  the  Histori- 
ans of  the  Renaissance  period  with 
the  earlier  writers,  278 

Hobbes,  his  saying  about  the  Papacy 
quoted,  i.  6 

Hohenstauffen,  war  between  the  House 
of  Hohenstauffen  and  the  Papacy,  i. 
59,  60,  68,  74,  loo,  374;  ii.  251,  iv. 
6  (j^also  Frederick  II.) 

Honor,  Italian  notions  of,  i.48i,  485,  v. 
242,  520 

Honorius,  his  retirement  to  Ravenna,  i. 
46 

Howell,  quoted  for  the  English  opinion 
on  Italy,  i.  472  note  2 

Human  Life,  medieval  conception  of,  i. 
10,  13,  14,  iv.  289,  v.  454,  455,  456 

Humanism,  definition  of  the  word,  ji. 
7i  j  four  periods  of  Italian  Human- 
ism, ii.  160-162,  310,  393,  440,  517  ; 
Humanism  a  revival  of  Latin  culture, 
and  little  affected  by  Greek  models, 
v.  132  note  i,  509;  Italian  tyranni- 
cide and  the  Reformation  had  their 
origin  in  Humanistic  liberty,  i.  465- 
468,  v.  414 

Humanists,  the,  persecution  of  the  Ro- 
man Humanists  by  Paul  the  Second, 
i  384  note  i,  386,  387,  ii.  36,  511  ; 
their  quarrels,  ii.  237-245,  264,  511, 
iv.  431  note  1, 451,  v.  89,  285  ;  formed 
a  class  by  themselves,  ii.  216,  510, 


INDEX. 


595 


Humanists  (Continued). 
543.  iv-  366  ;  their  flatteries  of  the 
great,  ii.  492,  496,  512,  514,  iv.  367, 
405  ;  their  pretensions  and  vanity,  it. 
511,  521,  iv.  405  ;  their  employment 
of  invective,  ii.  512  (cp.  i.  387),  v. 
393  ;  their  resemblance  to  the  Greek 
sophists  and  rhetoricians,  ii.  513; 
emptiness  of  their  works  from  their 
preference  of  form  to  matter,  514, 
530.  v.  247,  264 ;  came  to  be  consid- 
ered the  corrupters  of  youth,  ii.  515  ; 
universal  bad  opinion  of  them,  518 
(cp.  the  passages  from  Maccaronic 
writers,  v.  331-333) ;  injury  occa- 
sioned to  their  character  by  their  va- 
grant habits,  ii.  520 ;  their  irreligion 
and  licentiousness,  520;  the  better 
characters  among  them,  523 ;  the  real 
value -of  their  works,  524. ;  their  study 
of  style,  525  ;  their  letter-writing, 
532  ;  services  rendered  by  their  erudi- 
tion, 533 ;  aided  in  diffusing  a  liberal 
spirit,  535  ;  their  influence  on  modern 
education,  536  ;  the  services  rendered 
by  them  to  Italy,  iv.  367  ;  effect  of 
their  labours  in  preparing  for  the 
growth  of  Italian  literature,  v.  496 

Hussites,  the,  i.  9 

Hut  ton,  Von,  Ulrich,  i.  27,  437 

Hypnerotomachia  Polifhili.  (See  Co- 
lonna,  Francesco.) 

/NO  VE,  name  of  governing  body  at 
Siena,  i.  35,  208 

Ibrahim  ibn  Ahmed.  {See  Appendix  i. 
vol.  i. ) 

Ibycus,  lines  on  Peace  translated,  iv.  52 

//  Grasso,  Legnaiuolo,  the  metrical  ver- 
sion of  the  novel  so  called,  iv.  253 

Ilaria  del  Carretto,  her  monument  in 
the  Cathedral,  Lucca,  iii.  132,  165 

Illicini,  Bernardo  Lapini,  his  Commen- 
tary on  Petrarch's  Trionfi*  v.  99 ;  his 
Novella  of  Anselmo  Salimbeni  and 
Carlo  Montanini,  99-101 

Imperia,  la  Bella,  v.  288 ;  epitaph  upon 
her,  ii.  406  note  \ 

Incogniti,  the,  an  Academy  at  Naples, 
ii.  366 

Infessura,  Stefano,  quoted,  i.  22  ;  cited 
for  the  stories  about  Sixtus  and  Alex- 
ander, 388  note  i  ;  quoted  about  the 


Infessura,  Stefano  (Continued}. 

sale  of  offices  by  Sixtus,  394  note  i: 
upon  his  avarice,  395  note  \ :  upon 
his  cruelty  and  sensuality,  395  note  2  • 
about  the  Papacy  of  Innocent  VIIL, 
404  note  i,  405  note  i,  405  ;  for  the 
immorality  of  Rome,  474  note 2 

Informix  the,  an  Academy  at  Ravenna, 
ii.  366 

Ingannati,  Gil,  Comedy  of,  v.  72  note 
I,  .123 

Inghirami,  Tommaso,  his  rise  into  great- 
ness, ii.  403  (cp.  v.  139) ;  made  Libra- 
rian of  the  Vatican,  ii.  424  ;  Professor 
in  the  Sapienza  at  Rome,  427 

Innocent  III.,  war  of,  with  Frederick 
II.,  iv.  279 

Innocent  IV.,  establishes  the  Univer- 
sity of  Piacenza,  ii.  117 

Innocent  VIII.,  i.  113,  ii.  359  ;  his  ad- 
ditions to  the  Vatican,  i.  384  note  i  ; 
employs  Mantegna  to  paint  his  chapel 
there,  iii.  277  ;  his  Bull  against  witch- 
craft, i.  402  note  r,  v.  347  ;  his  pon- 
tificate, i.  403-406 ;  his  monument 
by  Antonio  del  Pollajuolo,  415,  iii. 
147  ;  his  detention  of  Prince  Djem,  i. 
415,  461  ;  appoints  Bruni  Apostolic 
Secretary,  it  218 ;  his  destruction  of 
ancient  monuments  at  Rome,  430 

Inquisition,  the,  foundation  of,  i.  399 

Insensati,  the,  an  Academy  at  Perugia, 
ii.  366 

Instabili,  the,  an  Academy  at  Bologna, 
ii.  366 

Intronati,  the,  an  Academy  at  Siena, 
their  performance  of  the  Masque  El 
Sacrificio,  v.  143  note  2  ;  volume  pub- 
lished by  them  on  the  quarrel  and  re- 
concilement of  Aretino  and  Albicante, 
v.  420 

Invention,  effect  of  the  progress  of  in- 
ventions on  the  Renaissance,  i.  3,  29 

Investitures,   War  of,  i.  59,  60,  97,  iv. 

7.   1.3 

Isabella  of  Aragon,  i.  55$ 
Istoria  Bresciana,  cited,  i.  615  note  2 
Italy,   Italians:  divergent  character  of 
the  Italian  cities,  34,  35,  "L  43»  »«i 
iv.    361,    v.    137 ;    reasons   why   the 
Italians  failed  to  attain  political  unity, 
i.  90,  98,  iii.  261,  iv.  5  ;  their  dislike 
to  monarchy,  i.  92,  369,  v.  503,  504; 


59$ 


INDEX. 


Italy,  Italians  (Continued). 

feudalism  alien  to  their  temper,  i.  42, 
58,  61,  62,  ioo,  359,  484,  ii.  3,  iii. 
51,  iv.  6,  7,  27,  44,  73,  140,  405, 
426,  459,  v.  492,  503,  505,  524,  530; 
their  estimation  of  tyrannicide,  i.  169, 
464 ;  their,  notions  of  nobility,  186 
note  i  ;  their  tendency  towards  despo- 
tism, 190  ;  had  no  conception  of  rep- 
resentative government  or  confedera- 
tion, 196,  211,  ii.  3  (cp.  v.  438),  v. 
495 ;  did  not  aim  at  national  inde- 
pendence, i.  457,  it.  509 ;  their  civilisa- 
tion in  advance  of  that  of  Northern 
Europe,  i.  ioo,  260,  586,  iii.  42,  v. 
50 ;  Italian  ideas  about  the  Pope,  i. 
418,  462-464,  iii.  471;  reasons  why 
the  Italians  held  to  the  Papacy,  i. 
470,  iv.  438;  their  attachment  to  the 
Imperial  idea,  iv.  438  ;  independent 
attitude  of  the  Italians  to  the  Empire 
and  Church,  v.  502,  524  ;  ready  means 
of  intercourse  between  the  Italian 
provinces  in  the  middle  ages,  iv.  270 ; 
the  local  divisions  of  Italy  a  source  of 
intellectual  strength  as  well  as  political 
weakness,  ii.  8,  iv.  493,  518;  the 
modern  development  of  the  Italians 
precocious  and  never  matured,  i.  495, 
iv.  146 ;  their  ignorance  of  the  power 
of  the  Northern  nations,  538 ;  the 
Italian  lower  classes  welcomed  the 
French  invasion,  549  note  i,  583  note 
2 ;  Italy  '  revealed  to  the  Nortli '  by 
the  invasion,  583 ;  fascination  exer- 
cised by  Italy  over  the  Northern 
fancy,  119  note  2,  v.  117;  complete 
change  in  Italy  between  1375-1470, 
iv.  366  ;  confidence  of  the  Italians  at 
the  Renaissance  in  the  fortune  of  the 
age,  ii.  208,  iv.  396,  v.  281,  522 ; 
physical  and  ethnographical  character 
of  the  Italians,  i.  12,  ii.  24,  v.  500 ; 
persistence  of  the  Italic  type  through 
all  historical  mutations,  v.  501-504, 
509 ;  hold  retained  by  their  past  his- 
tory upon  the  Italians,  ii.  30,  56,  505, 
'v-  S»  7»  "»  !4*i  '87  note  i,  242, 
273>  v'  492;  essential  unity  of  the 
Italian  nation,  i.  32,  42,  47  note  i, 
54,  65 ;  formation  of  the  national 
character,  ioo,  ii.  1-4.  iv.  146,  v. 
505  ;  preoccupation  of  the  Italians  in 


Italy,  Italians  (Continued). 

the  middle  ages  with  the  idea  of  death, 
iii.  198,  iv.  74;  Italian  morality  at  the 
Renaissance,  i.  323,  v.  365 ;  morality 
and  religion  disunited  in  Italy,  i.  174 
note  i,  433,  447,  462,  ii.  234,  257, 
iii.  451 ;  material  and  irreligious 
temperament  of  the  Italians,  i.  454, 
49°.  493i  »•  »7»  205,  iv.  10,  39,  128, 
140,  146,  426,  v.  114,  486,  504,  509, 
514  ;  difference  of  their  religious  feel- 
ings from  those  of  Northern  nations, 
iv.  306,  323,  v.  486.  514;  decay  of 
religious  feeling  in  Italy  between  the 
time  of  Dante  and  Poliziano,  iv.  207, 
v.  194,  493,  516  ;  unwillingness  of 
Italian  thinkers  to  break  with  Cathol- 
icism, i.  454,  v.  293 ;  Italian  passion 
for  reliques,  i.  461  ;  defects  of  their 
imagination,  iv.  249,  253,  273,  343, 
v.  1 8,  504,  509,  514  ;  reasons  for 
these  defects,  iv.  344 ;  character  of 
the  Italian  imagination  illustrated 
from  the  Sacre  Rappresentazioni, 
347 ;  lack  of  sterner  passion  in  the 
Italian  aesthetic  temperament,  v.  114 
(cp.  515);  organising  faculty  of  the 
Italians,  504,  513  ;  foreign  judgments 
of  Italian  morality,  i.  472,  ii.  408 ; 
anomaly  of  the  corruption  of  Italy 
while  the  arts  and  literature  were  at 
their  height,  v.  494;  profligacy  of  the 
Italians,  i.  474  (cp.  Bandello's  Apol- 
ogy for  his  Novelle,  v.  76,  and  the 
Analysis  of  Machiavelli's  Mandra~ 
golat  v.  165-170) ;  their  addiction  to 
unnatural  vices,  i.  476 ;  their  cruelty 
and  debauchery,  476-479  ;  their  love 
of  poisoning  and  assassination,  480, 
v.  523  :  their  notions  of  honour  and 
female  fidelity,  i.  481-486  (cp.  v.  163 
note  i);  their  admiration  of  gener- 
osity, iv.  356 ;  the  Italians  had  not 
adopted  chivalry,  i.  359,  482,  iv.  6, 
27,  44,  6r,  73.  v.  13,  505  ;  character 
of  the  bourgeoisie  as  drawn  in  Italian 
comedies,  v.  183 ;  refinement  and 
toleration  of  the  Italians,  i.  486-488, 
ii.  14,  408  ;  cosmopolitan  nature  of 
their  ideals,  ii.  15,  55,  iv.  184;  the 
art  of  conversation  invented  by  the 
Italians,  ii.  34;  free  play  given  to 
personality  in  Italy,  i.  488,  ii.  3,  4, 


INDEX. 


597 


Italy,  Italians  {Continued). 

6 ;  superior  morals  of  the  lower  classes 
illustrated  from  Italian  art,  i.  488- 
490 ;  the  same  fact  proved  by  con- 
temporary biographies  and  memoirs, 
v.  190 ;  revivalism  in  Italy,  i.  490 
(see  Apendix  iv.  vol.  I. ;  also  Flagel- 
lants and  Laudesi)  :  Italian  archi- 
tecture local  rather  than  national,  ii. 
5,  iii.  45  ;  Gothic  architecture  never 
fully  understood  in  Italy,  iii.  51,  66, 
69,  iv.  345,  v.  505  ;  Italian  feeling  for 
spatial  proportion  in  architecture,  iii. 
67 ;  reasons  why  the  Italians  suc- 
ceeded better  in  sculpture  and  paint- 
ing than  architecture,  ii.  7 ;  Italian 
genius  best  shown  in  painting,  iii.  5, 
31,  v.  495 ;  universal  feeling  for  art 
in  the  Italians,  iii.  i,  4;  their  aes- 
thetic enthusiasm,  3 ;  their  innate 
susceptibility  to  beauty,  iv.  242,  v. 
526;  the  Italian  artists  were  con- 
tented to  work  out  old  motives,  iii. 
1 1 8,  v.  6;  Italian  love  of  cultivated 
landscape  beauty,  v.  196,  511;  the 
cosmopolitan  culture  of  the  Italians 
implied  some  sacrifice  of  national  per- 
sonality, ii.  9,  394,  v.  137  ;  the  Ital- 
ians contented  to  accept  the  primacy 
in  culture  instead  of  national  inde- 
pendence, ii.  39,  475 ;  respect  of  the 
Italians  for  culture,  iv.  447 ;  Italian 
unity  only  attained  in  literature  and 
art,  iii.  261,  iv.  147,  367,  v.  137, 
248,  495 ;  the  recovery  of  the  classics 
equivalent  to  the  recovery  of  national 
consciousness  in  Italy,  iv.  142,  v.  505  ; 
the  Roman  element  in  Italian  genius, 
v.  501-516;  persistency  of  the  Ital- 
ians in  carrying  out  the  Revival,  ii. 
509,  v.  505,  525 ;  injurious  effects  of 
the  Revival  upon  them,  ii.  516,  v. 
193  ;  decay  of  learning  in  Italy,  ii. 
540,  v.  480;  the  Italians  cease  to 
study  Greek,  ii.  543 ;  work  achieved 
by  the  Italians  in  educating  the 
Northern  nations,  544,  v.  530  ;  at- 
tention paid  by  the  Italians  to  biog- 
raphy, ii.  35;  their  susceptibility  to 
rhetoric,  149,  190,  216,  513,  525,  iii. 
3,  v.  512  ;  questioning  spirit  of  the 
Italian  intellect,  iv.  448,  v.  500  :  con- 
tempt of  the  early  Italian  scholars  for 


Italy,  Italians  (Continued). 

Italian,  ii.  448,  532  note  i,  iv.  4,  7, 
143,  176,  234-236,  365,  v.  137,  247, 
506,  508 ;  growth  of  Italian  out  of 
Latin,  iv.  28-32;  the  development 
of  Italian  slower  than  that  of  other 
modern  languages,  3-8;  Italian  su- 
perseded French  as  the  literary  lan- 
guage in  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  20 ;  character  of  the  various 
Italian  dialects,  30 ;  early  popular 
works  in  the  dialects,  34,  129 ;  arti- 
ficial character  of  the  Italian  literary 
language,  ii.  448,  iv.  8,  v.  246  ;  re- 
vival of  Italian  in  the  fourth  period 
of  culture,  ii.  393,  iv.  3,  365,  v.  246; 
manner  in  which  Tuscan  was  made 
into  the  standard  Italian,  iv.  33,  v. 
246,  508  ;  problem  presented  by  lan- 
guage to  the  writers  of  Italian,  v. 
247 ;  Petrarch  and  Boccaccio  taken 
as  models,  iv.  164,  v.  248 ;  manner  in 
which  their  influence  was  injurious, 

(1)  the  imitation  of  Petrarch's  affec- 
tation and  melancholy,  v.  249-251; 

(2)  of  Boccaccio's  ornate  and  compli- 
cated style,  251  (cp.  iv.  136);  effect 
of  purism  on  Italian  literature,   v. 
256-258;  false  position  of  the  Pe- 
trarchisti,   249,  520;  they  show  no 
sympathy  for  the  calamities  of  Italy, 
281,   522 ;    erroneous  conception  of 
poetry  implied  in  Petrarchism,  273  ; 
want  of  a  natural  means  of  expression 
in  the  Petrarchisti,  250;  the  unity 
of  Italy  is  now  producing  a  common 
Italian,  ii.  450,  v.  270 :  Italian  litera- 
ture brought   to  perfection  between 
1 300  and  1530,  iv.  I ;  subdivisions  of 
that    period,    i ;    positive    spirit    in 
which   the   Italians    treated   ancient 
legends  and  sagas,  5,  n;  effect  pro- 
duced by  their  free  political  life  on 
early  Italian   writers,    8;   degree   o 
superiority  in   the  use  of  Latin  ob- 
tained by  medieval  Italian  writers,  9 ; 
effect  of  Proveii9al  and  French  litera- 
ture  on   the   Italians,    13  foil  ;  tl 
Italian  hendecasyllabic,  24   (see  als< 
Appendix  i.  vol.  iv.) ;  history  of  t 
ottava  rima,  25,  308 ;  effect  on  It 
ian  literature  produced  by  the  war 
of  a  central  Court,  33,  365,  v.  112, 


INDEX. 


Italy,  Italians  (Continued). 

257  ;  origin  of  Italian  prose,  iv.  35, 
128;  inferiority  of  the  first  attempts, 
130;  beginnings  of  Italian  poetry, 
37  ;  the  modern  Italians  never  had  a 
national  Epic,  ii.  4,  iv.  5,  7.  244,  v. 
503 ;  general  absence  ot  Ballad  po- 
etry in  Italian,  iv.  37  (cp.  251),  274, 
v.  1 1 ;  exceptions  to  this,  iv.  274 ; 
early  poems  treating  of  obscene  sub- 
jects, iv.  38,  v.  356  note  \  ;  Italian 
literature  in  the  middle  ages  created 
no  feminine  ideal  like  those  of  the  old 
romances,  iv.  63 ;  Italian  prose-writ- 
ers of  the  Trecento,  131  ;  exagger- 
ated admiration  of  modern  Italians 
for  the  Trecentisti,  132,  v.  270;  im- 
portance of  the  Quattro  Cento  in 
Italian  literature,  iv.  147  ;  sentiment 
of  disappointment  and  despair  com- 
mon to  the  later  Trecentisti,  165  ; 
employment  of  the  terza  rinia  by  the 
poets  after  Dante,  166,  172;  materi- 
als afforded  for  studying  the  growth 
of  Italian  prose  by  familiar  letters, 
175,  v.  262;  improvements  effected 
in  Italian  prose  by  the  popular  writ- 
ers of  the  Quattro  Cento,  iv.  -240; 
appreciation  of  the  great  Italian  poets 
by  the  mass  of  the  people,  241  ;  pop- 
ular poems  upon  contemporary  events 
during  the  Quattro  Cento,  255  ;  erotic 
spirit  of  Italian  hymns,  305  ;  rarity 
of  Miracle  Plays  in  Italy,  306  ;  their 
place  supplied  by  Divozioni  and  Sacre 
Rappresentazioni,  307  ;  the  best  man- 
ner of  dealing  with  Italian  literature 
between  1470-1530,  359  foil  ;  typi- 
cal men  of  genius  during  this  period, 
362 ;  share  of  the  different  cities  in 
literature,  364-366;  degeneracy  of 
Italian  poetry  during  the  Renaissance, 
404,  463 ;  the  classification  of  the 
Italian  narrative  poems,  v.  3;  the 
literature  of  the  Cinque  Cento  influ- 
enced by  the  manners  of  the  dour-  \ 
geoisie,  52  ;  injury  occasioned  to 
Italian  literature  by  the  absence  of  .a 
general  public,  52,  190  note  2  ;  num- 
ber of  popular  works  issued  by  the 
Venetian  press,  96 ;  burlesque  con- 
sidered as  a  counterpoise  to  serious 
poetry  in  Italy,  310,  382  ;  survival  of  I 


Italy,  Italians  {Continued). 

ancient  satiric  humour  in  Italy,  512 
(cp.  366) ;  no  great  satire  produced 
by  the  Italians,  512  ;  burlesque  po- 
etry in  Italy  a  medium  for  free 
thought,  311,  315  ;  association  at  the 
Reformation  of  Lutheran  opinions 
and  immorality  in  Italy,  325  ;  num- 
ber of  Italian  poetesses,  287;  iden- 
tity of  male  and  female  education  in 
Renaissance  Italy,  287  note  i  ;  com- 
parison of  Italian  and  Latin  art  and 
literature,  509-514;  Italian  love  of 
didactic  poetry,  512  ;  general  charac- 
teristics of  Italian  literature,  518 ; 
results  achieved  by  the  Italians  dur- 
ing the  Renaissance,  526 

T  ACOPO       DEL      BUSSOLARO, 
FRA,  preaching  of,  i.  490,  610, 

r    6n 

Jacopo  da  Lentino,  iv.  25,  43,  60 

Jacopo  della  Marca,  Fra,  preaches  at 
Perugia,  i.  491,  613 

Jacopone  da  Todi,  the  legend  of  his 
life,  iv.  285-289 ;  his  Italian  hymns, 
40,  283  ;  their  ecstatic  spirit,  284 ; 
their  simplicity,  284;  specimens  of 
them,  289-292  ;  the  Dialogue  be- 
tween Mary  and  Christ  on  the  Cross, 
292-295,  309  ;  many  of  the  hymns 
ascribed  to  him  belong  to  his  fol- 
lowers, 295  ;  specimens  of  these, 
297-302;  his  saying  about  Boniface 
VIII.,  289.  (See  Appendix  iv.  voL 
iv.  for  translations.) 

Jenson,  Nicholas,  joins  John  of  Spires 
as  printer  at  Venice,  ii.  369 

Jerome  of  Prague,  Poggio's  description 
of  him  at  the  Council  of  Constance, 

»•  23»»  533 
Jeronimo,   his  preaching  at    Milan,   i. 

620 

Jews,  expulsion  of  the,  from  Spain,  i. 
400 

Joachim  (of  Flora),  saying  cf  his,  i.  9, 
iii.  36 

Joanna  of  Naples,  i.  361,  574;  married 
to  her  nephew  Ferdinand,  575  note  i 

John  of  Maintz,  early  printer  at  Flo- 
rence, ii.  369 

John  of  Spires,  establishes  himself  as 
printer  at  Venice,  ii.  369 


INDEX. 


599 


John  of  Vicenza,  preaching  of,  i.  490, 
607-610 

Jonson,  Ben,  his  Epic&ne  compared  with 
Dolce's  Ragazzo,  v.  162  note  i  ;  may 
have  been  partially  indebted  to  Are- 
tino's  Marescalco  for  its  humour,  178 ; 
more  successful  in  the  fusion  of  an- 
cient and  modern  elements  than  the 
Italian  comedies,  182 

Jovius.     (See  Giovio.) 

Jubilee,  the  (of  1300),  iv.  2 ;  visited  by 
Dante  and  Villani,  i.  253,  ii.  144  • 
(of  1450),  i.  377,  378,  iv.  173 

Julia,  corpse  of,  said  to  have  been  dis- 
covered on  the  Appian  Way,  i.  22,  ii. 

3.1.  433 

Julius  II.,  i.  157;  character  of  him  by 
Volaterranus,  389  note  z ;  his  hostility 
to  the  Borgias,  406,  432  ;  his  services 
to  art,  433 ;  commences  St.  Peter's, 
433»  "I-  90,  398  5  his  policy,  i.  434  ; 
contrast  of  Julius  and  Leo,  438 ;  say- 
ing ascribed  to  him,  ii.  17;  story  of 
his  wishing  to  be  represented  with  a 
sword  in  his  statue,  iii.  397  ;  his  pro- 
ject for  a  mausoleum,  398  ;  his  recon- 
ciliation with  Michelangelo,  401 ;  his 
impatience  with  Michelangelo  during 
the  painting  of  the  Sistine  Chapel,  407 

Julius  III.,  makes  Aretino  a  Knight  of 
S.  Peter,  v.  404 

Justinian,  his  conquest  of  Italy,  i.  47 ; 
the  Code  of  Justinian  enthusiastically 
studied  in  medieval  Italy,  62 

TV'YDONIOS,     DEMETRIOS,   ii. 
JX.     109 

LADISLAUS,  KING,  Filelfo's  mis- 
sion to  him  on  his  marriage,  ii. 
268 

Lsetus,  Pomponius,  i.  386 ;  his  relation 
to  the  Sanseveriui,  ii.  33,  359 ;  his 
letter  to  his  kindred,  359  ;  assimilated 
his  life  to  that  of  the  ancients,  360 ; 
founds  the  Roman  Academy,  361, 
409,  v.  272  ;  his  apology  for  his  life, 
ii.  362  ;  his  funeral,  362  ;  his  nobility 
of  character,  523  ;  causes  plays  of 
Terence  and  Plautus  to  he  represented 
in  the  original  by  the  Roman  Acade- 
my, v.  138 


La  Magione,  the  Diet  of  (the  conspiracy 
against  Cesare  Borgia),  i.  351 

Lambertazzi,  Imelda,  i.  74,  210  note  z 

Lampugnani,  Giannandrea,  one  of  the 
assassins  of  Galeazzo  Maria  Sforza  i. 
1 66 

Landi  Family,  the,  at  Bobbio,  i.  150 

Landini,  Taddeo  di  Leonardo,  architect 
at  the  representation  of  Cecchi's  Ele- 
vation of  the  Cross,  iv.  325 

Landino,  Cristoforo,  one  of  the  circle 
gathered  round  Lorenzo  de'  Medici, 
ii.  322  ;  his  labours  as  Professor  at 
Florence,  338 ;  his  edition  of  Dante, 
338,  iv.  235  ;  the  Camaldolese  Dis- 
Missions,  338-341,  iv.  206,  v.  451, 
455  ;  his  preference  of  Latin  to  Ital- 
ian, iv.  236,  237 

Landriani,  Gherardo,  discovers  a  MS.  of 
Cicero  at  Lodi,  ii.  140 

Langue  d'Oc,  iv.  13,  14,  16 

Langue  d'Oil,  iv.  13,  14,  16 

Languschi  Family,  the,  of  Pavia,  L  145 

Laocoon,  discovery  of  the,  ii.  415,  431  ; 
description  of  it,  by  a  Venetian  am- 
bassador, 435  ;  transcends  the  limits 
of  ancient  sculpture,  iii.  18 

Laonicenus,  a  Cretan,  joint  editor  of  a 
Greek  Psalter,  ii.  376 

Lapaccini,  Fra  Giuliano,  copies  MSS. 
for  Cosimo  de'  Medici,  ii.  1 74 

Lasca,  II,  origin  of  his  nom  de  plume, 
v.  79 ;  depreciates  Burchiello  in  com- 
parison with  Berni,  iv.  261,  v.  362 
note  i ;  edits  the  poems  of  Berni,  v. 
361 ;  his  collection  of  Canti  Carna- 
scialeschi,  iv.  388,  v.  79,  356  note  i  ; 
quoted  in  proof  of  their  invention  by 
Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  iv.  388 ;  his  Cene, 
v.  79,  80  ;  introduction  to  the  work, 
8l ;  its  obscenity  and  cruelty,  80-82; 
the  better  stories  contained  in  it,  82  ; 
the  Novella  of  Zoroastro,  cited  in  il- 
lustration of  Italian  witchcraft,  346 
note  i  ;  his  criticism  of  contemporary 
comedy,  122,  124,  143  note  i,  187; 
his  comedies,  181 

Lascaris,  John,  his  Greek  Grammar  the 
first  Greek  book  printed  in  Italy,  ii. 
375  ;  the  edition  of  Vicenza,  376 ;  his 
edition  of  four  plays  of  Euripides.  3^3 
note  l  ;  a  member  of  the  Aldine 
Academy,  386  ;  his  visits  to  France, 


6oo 


INDEX. 


Lascaris,  John  ( Continued). 

386,  427 ;  invited  by  Leo  to  Rome, 
427  ;  his  epitaph  on  himself,  428 

Lateran,  Council  of  the  (1513),  reasserts 
the  Thomistic  doctrine  on  the  soul,  v. 
470 

Latin,  the  transformation  of,  into  the 
modern  Romance  languages,  iv.  28-32: 
reasons  why  the  Italian  scholars  pre- 
ferred Latin  to  Italian,  ii.  447;  im- 
perfection of  their  first  attempts  at 
Latin  versification,  451,  482,  486; 
Latinisation  of  names  and  phrases  by 
scholars  at  the  Renaissance,  397  (cp. 
480  note  2,  iv.  120,  v.  507) 

Latini,  Brunette,  his  Tesoro,  originally 
written  in  French,  iv.  16  ;  translated 
into  Italian,  35,  130;  Dante  studies 
under  him,  70 ;  reputed  author  of 
many  early  popular  Italian  works,  129 

Laudcsi,  the  (Umbrian  religious  socie- 
ties), origin  of  the  name,  iv.  283 ; 
gave  rise  by  their  religious  practices 
to  the  Divozioni  and  the  Sacre  Rap- 
presentazioniy  307 

Laudi,  the,  popular  hymns  in  Italian, 
originally  produced  by  the  Umbrian 
religious  societies,  iv.  40,  283,  302,  v. 
519  ;  set  to  the  tunes  of  popular  songs, 
iv.  263,  305 

Laura  (daughter  of  Alexander  VI.), 
marries  Nicolo  della  Rovere,  i.  407 
note  i 

Laurentian  library,  its  formation  by 
Cosimo  de'  Medici,  ii.  175;  its  archi- 
tectural features,  iii.  87 

Lazzari,  Bramante.     (Sc-e  Bramante.) 

Legates,  I  35 

Legnano,  battle  of,  i.  42,  64,  95,  iv.  6 

Leo  III.,  crowns  Charles  the  Great  as 
Emperor,  i.  50 

Leo  IX.,  59 

Leo  X.,  Machiavelli's  Diseorso  sul  Reg- 
gimento  di  Firenze  dedicated  to  him, 
197  note  i,  203  ;  his  management  of 
Florence  in  the  Medicean  interest. 222, 
277,  438  ;  said  by  Pitti  to  have  wished 
to  give  a  liberal  government  to  EJo- 
rence,  288  note  \ ;  makes  Guicciardini 
governor  of  Reggio  and  Modena,  296  ; 
confers  the  Dukedom  of  Urbino  on  his 
nephew,  322,  438,  ii.  420  ;  his  remark 
on  the  election  of  Alexander  VI., 


Leo  X.  (Continued). 
409  ;  on  Lionardo  da  Vinci's  love  of 
experiment,  iii.  323 ;  his  saying,  '  Let 
us  enjoy  the  Papacy  since  God  has 
given  it  us,'  i.  437,  ii.  17,  412  ;  his 
policy,  i.  98,  322  ;  his  character,  435, 
ii.  401,  412 ;  his  extravagance,  436- 
438 ;  contrast  of  Leo  and  Julius,  438 ; 
his  imprimatur  to  the  editors  of 
Tacitus,  ii.  40,  425  ;  Aldo  Manuzio's 
edition  of  Plato  dedicated  to  him,  379 ; 
his  patronage  of  scholars,  404,  415, 
470 ;  reforms  the  Sapienza  at  Rome, 
426 ;  his  visit  to  Florence  after  his 
election,  iv.  396  ;  representation  of 
Rucellai's  Rosmunda  before  him  at 
Florence,  v.  129;  his  sympathy  for 
popular  literature,  138  note  i  ;  thea- 
tre built  by  him  at  Rome,  144,  147  ; 
his  love  of  plays,  146;  causes  the 
Calandra  to  be  represented  before 
Isabella  of  Mantua,  146 ;  Paolucci's 
account  of  Leo's  behavioural  a  repre- 
sentation of  the  Sttfpositi,  147  ;  re- 
presentations of  the  JMandragola  be- 
fore Leo,  170,  325  note  i  ;  his  dislike 
of  the  monks,  170;  presides  over  the 
Lateran  Council  of  1513,  470;  his 
doubts  upon  the  Thomistic  doctrine 
of  immortality,  471 

Leo  the  Isaurian,  i.  50 

Leoniceno,  Nicolao,  his  '  De  Morbo 
Gallico,'  i.  567  note  I  ;  his  praise  of 
Aldo  Manuzio,  ii.  391 ;  teacher  in  the 
High  School  of  Ferrara,  427 

Leonora  of  Aragon,  her  reception  by 
Pietro  Riario  at  Rome,  i.  390,  iv.  315 

Leopardi,  Alessandro,  his  statue  of  Col- 
leoni  at  Venice,  iii.  78  note  I,  143 

Lessing,  his  criticism  of  Ariosto's  Al- 
cina,  iv.  116,  v.  19 

Lezia,  Virginia  Maria,  her  trial  fof 
witchcraft,  v.  346  note  \ 

Libraries,  formation  of  the  great  libra- 
ries, i.  21  ;  smallness  of  ancient,  ii. 
127  ;  first  ideas  of  the  formation  of  a 
public  library,  166  ;  libraries  founded 
by  Cosmo  de1  Medici,  173-176.  (See 
also  Bessarion,  Petrarch,  &c.)  V^r1<<Mv 

Ligorio,  Piero,  his  labours  at  S.  Peter's, 
iii.  93 

Linacre,  a  pupil  of  Poliziano  and  Chnl- 
condylas,  ii.  350,  387  ;  a  member  of 


INDEX. 


60 1 


Linacre  {Continued). 

the   Aldine   Academy,    387 ;    found 
the    Greek    Chair   at    Oxford,  387, 

391 

Lingua  Aulica,  name  given  by  Dante  to 
the  dialect  adopted  by  the  Sicilian 
poets,  iv.  6,  22 

Lippi,  Filippino,  his  Triumph  of  S. 
Thomas  in  S.  Maria  sopra  Minerva, 
Rome,  iii.  207  ;  story  that  he  was  the 
son  of  Filippo  Lippi,  247  ;  power- 
fully influenced  by  revived  classicism, 
24? 

Lippi,  Fra  Filippo,  his  genius  cramped 
by  his  enforced  attention  to  religious 
subjects,  iii.  244;  his  frescoes  at  Prato, 
245,  iv.  422,  v.  54 ;  his  frescoes  at 
Spoleto,  iii.  246 ;  his  friendship  with 
Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  247,  263 

Livy,  tomb  of.  at  Padua,  i.  462,  ii.  30 

Lodovico  da  Vezzano,  his  Tragedy  of 
Jacopo  Piccinino,  v.  117  note  i 

Lomazzo,  his  History  of  Painting,  iii. 
322  note  3 ;  emblems  assigned  by  him 
to  the  great  painters,  337,  488 

Lombards,  the,  come  into  Italy,  i.  48 ; 
the  laws  of  (he  Lombards,  49,  62; 
effect  of  their  rule,  48,  49  ;  the  Lom- 
bard kings  join  the  Catholic  commu- 
nion, 49  ;  their  error  in  this,  49,  94  ; 
the  Pope  brings  in  the  Franks  against 
the  Lombards,  50,  51  ;  war  of  the 
Lombard  cities  with  Frederic  Barba- 
rossa,  63,  64,  67,  68,  95,  iv.  6 ;  little 
trace  left  by  this  war  on  Italian  art, 
iii:  220 

Lombardy,  part  played  by,  in  the  history 
of  Italian  art  and  literature,  ii.  506, 
iii.  482-490,  v.  497 

—  Lombard   architecture,    use    of    the 
term,  iii.  43  ;  character  of  the  style, 
47  (cp.  v.  504) 

—  Lombard  School   of  Painting,   the, 
owed  its  origin  to  Lodovico  Sforza, 
i.  79 ;  Lombard  masters  after  Lion- 
ardo  da  Vinci,  iii.  183,  482-484 ;  pi- 
ety of  their  art,  489  ;  richness  ot  the 
Italian  lake  district  in  works  of  this 
school,  490  note  \  (cp.  iv.  338) 

Longo,  Alberigo,  Lodovico  Castelvetro 
accused  of  his  murder,  v.  286 

Lorenzetti,  Ambrogio,  his  frescoes  in  the 
Palazzo  Pubblico,  Siena,  210 


Lorenzetti.  Ambrogio  and  Pietro,  scho- 
lars of  Giotto,  iii.  197,226;  probably 
the  painters  of  the  frescoes  in  the 
Campo  Santo,  Pisa,  200 ;  free  from 
the  common  pietism  of  the  Sienese 
painters,  216,  218 

Lori,  his  Capitolo  on  Apples,  v.  365 

Lo  Scalza,  his  statuary  at  Orvieto  and 
elsewhere,  iii.  56,  78  note  i  ;  his 
statue  of  S.  Sebastian  at  Orvieto,  il- 
lustrating the  pagan  motives  intro- 
duced by  the  Renaissance  into  Chris- 
tian art,  170  note  I 

Losco,  Antonio,  made  Apostolic  Secre- 
tary by  Gregory  XII.,  ii.  218;  his 
praises  of  Beccadelli's  Hermaphrodi- 
t™,  255 

Lotto,  Lorenzo,  iii.  503 

Louis  d' Orleans,  his  marriage  to  Valen- 
tina  Visconti,  i.  143  note  i,  154 

Louis  XI. ,  of  France,  confers  t\\ejleurs 
de  lys  on  the  Medici,  iv.  405 

Louis  XII.,  of  France:  Machiavelli's 
criticism  of  his  policy  in  Italy,  i.  339  ; 
invited  into  Italy  by  Alexander  VI., 
349,  427,  584 ;  his  alliance  with  Fer- 
dinand the  Catholic,  427  ;  marriage 
of  his  daughter  Renee  to  Ercole  d'Este, 
v.  297 

Louis  of  Bavaria,  i.  Si,  133 

Love,  the  ideal  of,  in  chivalrous  poetry, 
iv.  59;  reality  of  the  feeling  in  the 
medieval  poets,  64  ;  brought  back  by 
Petrarch  to  experience,  94;  its  charac- 
ter in  popular  Italian  poetry,  272,  419 

Lucca,  its  political  history,  i.  194 

—  the  Duomo  :  monument  of  Ilaria  del 
Carretto,  iii.   132,  165;  monuments, 
&c.,  by  Civitale,  157 

Lucca:  S.  Frediano,  Francia's  Assump- 
tion^ 303  note  i 

—  S.  Martino,  Pisano's  bas-relief,  105 

—  University,  the :   receives  a  diploma 
from  Charles  IV.,  ii.  118 

Lugano  :  Church  of  the  Angeli,  Luini's 

frescoes,  iii.  485-487  (cp.  iv.  340) 
Luigi  da  Porto,  his  Novelle,  v.  60 ;  his 

version   of  the  story  of  Romeo  and 

Juliet,  71  note  i 
Luigini,  Federigo,  his  Libra  della  Bella 

Donna,  ii.  37,  v.  85  note  3 
Luini,  Bernardino,  the  scholar  of  Lion- 

ardo  da  Vinci,  u'L  484;  idyllic  reli- 


602 


INDEX. 


Luini,  Bernardino  (Continued). 

gious  beauty  of  his  frescoes,  485-487  ; 
their  defects  of  composition,  487 

Luna,  his  Vocabolario  di  cinque  mila 
•vocaboli  tosc/ii,  v.  254  note  I 

Luther  :  effect  of  his  Reformation,  i.  2, 
26 ;  his  visit  to  Rome,  ii.  408 ;  the 
Lutheran  leanings  of  Vittoria  Colonna 
and  her  circle,  v.  292 ;  Lutheran 
opinions  expressed  by  the  burlesque 
poets,  312,  315,  325  ;  association  in 
Italy,  at  the  Reformation,  of  Luther- 
an opinions  and  immorality,  325 

Luziano,  architect  of  the  Ducal  palace 
at  Urbino,  iii.  162  note  I 

MACALO,  battle  of,  L  161 
Macaulay,  his  essay  on  Machia- 
velli  criticised,  i  320  note  I ;  quoted, 

329 

Maccaronic  Poetry,  its  origin,  v.  327 
Machiavelli,  the  facts  of  his  life,  i.  232, 
308,  foil.;  his  description  of  his  coun- 
try life,  314-317 ;  accused  of  com- 
plicity in  the  plot  against  Giulio  de' 
Medici,  314,  ii.  366,  v.  239;  his  ser- 
vility to  the  Medici,  i.  317,  v.  170, 
370 ;  his  Epigram  on  Piero,  Soderini, 
L  324,  iii.  391  (translated  i.  325) ;  his 
plan  for  a  national  militia,  i.  311 ;  his 
cynicism,  278,  292,  v.  160  note  i, 
1 68,  312,  385 ;  his  analysis  of  charac- 
ter contrasted  with  that  of  Ariosto,  v. 
22  (cp.  432) ;  comparison  of  Machia- 
velli, Michelangelo,  and  Dante,  L  318, 
iii.  395  :  of  Machiavelli,  Aretino,  and 
Cellini,  iii.  479:  of  Machiavelli  and 
Pomponazzi,  v.  485  ;  Machiavelli  and 
Savonarola  contrasted,  i.  368;  Varchi's 
character  of  him,  333  ;  his  knowledge 
of  the  Greek  classics  scanty,  310,  iv. 
493 ;  indirectly  indebted  to  Aristotle, 
i.  197  note  i ;  directly  to  Polybius,  v. 
434  note  i  ;  chiefly  used  Livy,  i.  250 
note  i  ;  plainness  and  directness  of 
his  style  in  contrast  to  the  prevailing 
love  of  rhetoric  and  form,  v.  431 ; 
division  of  his  works  into  four  classae^ 
433  5  1'ght  thrown  by  his  letterson  the 
complications  of  his  character,  433  ; 
his  aim  partly  practical,  partly  specu- 
lative, 435;  his  opinion  upon  the 
place  of  religion  in  the  State,  i.  453, 


Machiavelli  (Continued). 
454,  v.  437  ;  his  contempt  for  Chris- 
tianity, i.  453  note  \  (cp.  v.  520) ; 
his  analysis  of  the  causes  of  the  de- 
cay of  Italy,  (i)  the  corruptions  and 
ambition  of  the  Papacy,  96,  382,  448- 
451,  v.  436,  438,  442  ;  (2)  the  Con- 
dottiere  system,  i.  160  note  2,  311,  v. 
436  ;  (3)  the  want  of  a  central  power, 
i.  214,  321,  449,  450,  v.  436;  differ- 
ence between  Machiavelli's  views  on 
the  last  point  and  those  of  Guicciar- 
dini,  L  44  note  i,  45  note  \ ;  calls 
Italy  'the  corruption  of  the  world,' 
v.  493 ;  his  conception  of  patria,  v. 
435»  436,  442,  446 ;  his  analysis  <  f 
democracy,  i.  236  ;  has  no  idea  of 
representative  government,  v.  438 ; 
urges  the  training  of  the  citizens  to 
arms,  438,  439 ;  indifferent  as  to 
means  if  his  political  aims  could  be 
carried  out,  439-441  ;  his  use  of  the 
word  virtit,  i.  171,  337  note  i,  345, 
482,  484,  493,  ii.  35,  iii.  439,  479,  v. 
410,  416,  425,  440;  the  ideal  Prince 
or  Saviour  of  Society,  i.  98,  214,  321, 
v.  435,  439,  441 ;  weakness  of  the 
conception,  v.  441 ;  Machiavelli's  be- 
lief in  the  power  of  legislation,  i.  202, 
v.  439,  442,  444;  his  experience  of 
the  small  Italian  States  prevented 
him  from  forming  an  adequate  con- 
ception of  national  action,  v.  443; 
shared  with  the  Humanists  the  belief 
in  the  possibility  of  a  revival  of  the 
past,  j\.\^  ;  his  severance  of  ethics  and 
politics,  440,  441,  445  ;  his  greatness 
based  upon  the  scientific  spirit  in 
which  he  treated  his  subjects,  445, 
447,  519;  genuineness  of  his  patriot- 
ism, 445  :  the  Prince,  v.  519;  com- 
posed in  his  retirement,  i.  317  ;  anal- 
ysis of  the  work,  336-367  ;  criticised, 
367-370;  theories  on  the  object  of 
the  Prince,  326 ;  its  real  character, 
334-336i  y.  443?  Machiavelli's  ad- 
miration of  Cesare  Borgia,  i.  324, 
326,  345-356,  v.  385  ;  Alexander  VI. 
made  an  example  of  successful  hypoc- 
r'sy»  i.  357  >  observation  that  the  tem- 
poral power  of  the  Papacy  was  cre- 
ated by  Alexander,  413 ;  passage 
quoted  on  the  courtesy  shown  by  the 


INDEX. 


603 


Machiavelli  ( Continued). 

Condottieri  among  themselves,  162 
note  I  ;  Hegel's  criticism  of  the 
Prince,  367  ;  the  ethics  of  \\\<&  Prince, 
321-326,  482,  484,  494,  ii.  37,  312, 
iii.  479,  v.  441  :  the  Istorie  Floren- 
tine, i.  331,  332,  v.  432 ;  written  by 
desire  of  the  Cardinal  Giulio  de'  Med- 
ici, i.  331 ;  critique  of  Bruni  and  Pog- 
gio  in  the  Proemium  ; — Machiavelli's 
own  conception  of  history,  249 ;  re- 
mark on  the  divisions  of  Florence, 
227  ;  passage  on  the  growth  of  the 
Condottiere  system,  245  ;  passage  on 
Venetian  policy,  215  note  \  ;  the  cen- 
sure of  the  Ordinanze  della  Giustizia, 
225,  244  ;  the  policy  of  Cosimo  and 
Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  229  note  i,  231, 
iv.  386 ;  the  contention  between 
Church  and  Empire,  i.  82  note  i ;  the 
execution  of  Beatrice  di  Tenda,  152 
note  2  ;  visit  of  the  Duke  of  Milan  to 
Florence — its  effect  on  Florentine 
manners,  165  ;  negative  testimony  of 
Machiavelli  to  the  natural  death  of 
Alexander  VI.,  430:  the  Discorsi, 

328,  v.  432,  519;  Machiavelli's  debt 
to  Polybius,  v.  434  note  i ;  not  really 
in  discord   with    the  Principe,  435  ; 
passage  quoted  for  Machiavelli' s  opin- 
ion that  a  city  which  had  once  been 
under  a  tyrant  will  never  become  free, 
i  84,  115  ;  on  the  policy  of  enfeeb- 
ling a  hostile  prince  by  making  him 
odius  to  his  subjects,  146;  treatment 
of  tyrannicide  in  the  Discorsi,  169  ; 
censure  of  aristocracy,   186  note  i ; 
cynical  account  of  Gianpaolo  Bagli- 
oni's  omission  to   assassinate   Julius 
II.,  324,  463  :  the  Arte  della  Guerra, 

329,  v.  432>438>  439.  444'  theZter- 
crizione  della  Peste,  iii.  188,  v.  433  : 
Discorso  sopra  la  Riforma  dello  stato 
diFirenze,  i.  328  note  i,  v.  432,  439  ; 
its   Aristotelian   air,  i.    197  note   I : 
the   Vita  di    Castruccio  Castracane, 
76   note  i,   112,  ii.  37,  v.  432:  the 
Belphegor,    v.    60,    433 ;    compared 
with  Straparola's  version  of  the  story, 
IO2  :  criticism  of  Ariosto's  comedies 
ascribed    to    Machiavelli,    v.     156  : 
translation  of  the  Andria,  157:  the 
comedies— doubtful    authenticity    of 


Machiavelli  (Continued). 

the  Commedia  in  Prosa  and  the  Corn- 
media  in  Versi,  157,  159  note  I  ; 
their  plots,  157;  character  of  Fra 
Alberigo,  158  (cp.  i.  460);  of  Mar- 
gherita,  159;  of  Caterina  and  Amer- 
igo, 1 60:  the  Clizia,  its  plot,  161  ; 
the  characters,  162-164  >  coarseness 
of  the  moral  sentiment,  163;  sar- 
casm and  irony  of  the  comedy,  164: 
the  Mandragola,  m,  123,  165;  the 
plot,  165-168;  character  of  Fra 
Timoteo,  166  (cp.  i.  460,  v.  394) ; 
state  of  society  revealed  by  the  play, 
168-170 ;  mistake  to  suppose  that  the 
Mandragola  was  written  with  a  moral 
purpose,  434;  its  Prologue,  as  illus- 
trating the  character  of  Machiavelli, 
170-172:  Machiavelli's  comedies 
compared  with  those  of  Aretino  and 
Bibbiena,  180 

Maderno,  Carlo,  finishes  S.  Peter's  in 
disregard  of  Michelangelo's  scheme, 
iii.  93 

Maestro  Ferrara,  the,  his  poems  in  the 
langue  (foe,  iv.  16 

Maggi,  the,  a  survival,  in  regard  to 
form,  of  the  old  Sacred  Drama,  iv.  311 

Magiolini,  Laura,  Filelfo's  third  wife, 
ii.  280,  287 

Maglioli,  Sperando,  traditionally  said  to 
have  made  the  bust  of  Mantegna  in 
S.  Andrea,  Mantua,  iii.  278 

Mainus,  Jason,  his  panegyric  of  Alexan- 
der VI.,  i.  408 

Maitani,  Lorenzo,  the  architect  of  the 
Duomo  of  Orvieto,  iii.  117 

Maius,  Junianus,  the  tutor  of  Sannaz- 
zaro,  v.  198 

Majano,  Benedetto  da,  builds  the  Strozzi 
Palace  at  Florence,  iii.  76,  77,  161  ; 
his  work  as  a  sculptor  in  Italian 
churches,  78  note  \  ;  purity  and  deli- 
cacy pf  his  work,  152 ;  pictorial 
character  of  his  bas-reliefs,  161 ;  story 
of  his  journey  to  King  Matthias  Cor- 
vinus,  161  note  i 

Malaspina,  the  Marchese  Alberto,  his 
poems  in  the  langue  d'oc,  iv.  16 

Malatesti,  the,  how  they  rose  to  power, 
i.  in;  sell  Cervia  to  Venice,  114; 
members  of  this  family  become  Con- 
dottieri, 161 


604 


INDEX. 


Malatesta,  Carlo,  throws  a  statue  of 
Virgil  into  the  Mincio,  ii.  433  :  Gal- 
eazzo,  sells  Pesaro  and  Fossombrone, 
i.  114 :  Novello,  his  library  at  Cesena, 
".  303 :  Pandolfo,  murders  Vidovero, 
i.  113  note  i  :  Raimondo  and  Pan- 
dolfo, assassination  of,  121  :  Sigis- 
mondo  Pandolfo,  contradictions  of  his 
character,  173,  ii.  303  ;  his  crimes,  i. 
421  note  i,  428  note  i  ;  his  removal 
of  Pletho's  remains  to  Rimini,  173, 
461,  ii.  34,  209 ;  his  portrait  by 
Piero  della  Francesca,  iii.  235 

Malespini  Family,  the,  Chronicle  of,  i. 
251 ;  its  disputed  authorship,  252 
note  i,  iv.  36 

Malespini,  Celio,  his  Dttcento  Novelle, 
v.  60 

Mallory,  Sir  Thomas,  comparison  of  his 
Mart  <f  Arthur  with  the  Reali  di 
Francia,  iv.  246 

Malpaga,  Castle  of,  the  frescoes  there 
attributed  to  Cariani,  iii  368  note  i 

Mancina,  Faustina,  the  Roman  cour- 
tesan, ii.  488,  v.  225,  226 

Manetti,  Giannozzo,  one  of  the  circle  in 
Santo  Spirito,  ii.  102,  iSS ;  learns 
Greek  from  Chrysoloras  and  Traver- 
sari,  no,  189;  ruined  by  Cosimo  de' 
Medici,  170,  191  ;  pronounces  the 
funeral  oration  over  Bruni,  185 ;  his 
industry  in  acquiring  knowledge,  188  ; 
his  reputation  for  oratory,  190 ; 
maintained  by  Nicholas  V.  after  his 
exile,  192,  228;  greatness  of  his 
character,  192  ;  attempted  to  harmon- 
ise Christian  and  classical  traditions, 

332 

Manfred,  King  of  Sicily,  his  death  at 
the  battle  of  Benevento,  iv.  21,  27, 
48 ;  story  of  his  wandering  with 
mubic  of  evenings  through  Barletta, 
415  note  i 

Manfredi  di  Boccaccio,  sentiment  of 
despair  expressed  iu  his  poems,  iv. 
165 

Manfredi,  the,  of  Faenza,  i.  m,  353, 
375.  428 

—  Astorre  (i),  sells  Faenza  and  Imola, 
i.  114:  Astorre  (2),  292;  murdered 
by  Caesar  Borgia,  428  note  i  :  Gale- 
otto,  murdered  by  his  wife,  Francesca 
Bentivogli,  j  19  note  2,  428  note  I : 


Manfredi,  Astorre  (Continued). 

Taddeo,  one  of  Vittorino  da  Feltre's 
scholars,  177 

Mangini  della  Motta,  Giovanni,  his 
poem  on  the  downfall  of  Antonio 
della  Scala,  v.  117  note  i 

Mansueti,  Venetian  painter,  iii.  362 

Mantegna,  Andrea,  founded  no  school 
of  local  artists,  iii.  184;  owed  his 
training  to  Squarcione,  270  note  I ; 
his  frescoes  in  the  Eremitani,  Padua, 
270  ;  his  inspiration  derived  from  the 
antique,  272,  362,  382  ;  the  Triumph 
of  Julius  Ccesar,  273,  277  ;  tragic 
power  of  his  compositions,  274 ;  the 
Mad'onna  of  the  Victory,  275  ;  en- 
ters the  service  of  the  Gonzaga  family 
at  Mantua,  276  ;  his  visit  to  Rome, 
277 ;  his  domestic  circumstances,  277  ; 
his  monument  in  S.  Andrea,  Mantua, 
278 ;  his  treatment  of  the  antique 
compared  with  that  of  Signorelli  and 
Botticelli,  291  ;  his  art  illustrated  by 
the  Arcadia  of  Sannazzaro,  v.  203 

Mantegna,  Francesco  (son  of  Andrea), 
iii.  277 

Mantovano,  Battista,  cited  for  the  irre- 
ligiousness  and  pride  of  the  Human- 
ists, ii.  518,  521 

Mantovano,  Francesco,  his  drama  upon 
the  history  of  General  Lautrec,  iv. 

358 

Mantua  :  San  Andrea  (by  Alberti),  ii. 
342,  iii.  70  note  I,  75  ;  Mantegna's 
monument,  278 ;  Palazzo  del  Te, 
decorations  of,  by  Giulio  Romano,  ii. 
440,  iii.  83,  492,  iv.  403,  v.  229,  389 

Manuscripts  :  the  quest  of  manuscripts 
at  the  commencement  of  the  Renais- 
sance, ii.  131-140 

Manuzio,  Aldo,  i.  24,  ii.  368,  373 ;  his 
panegyrics  of  Lucrezia  Borgia,  i. 
422 ;  story  of  the  appearance  of  his 
edition  of  Plato,  ii.  16  (cp.  379);  his 
dedication  of  Aristotle  quoted,  330 
note  2  ;  his  birth  and  education,  373  ; 
his  Greek  Press  at  Venice,  377,  v. 
497 ;  his  assistants,  ii.  378  ;  his  in- 
dustry, 378  ;  his  generous  spirit  and 
love  of  his  art,  380,  390 ;  original 
prices  of  hii  editions,  381  ;  list 
of  first  editions  of  Greek  classics 
printed  by  him,  382;  his  Latin  and 


INDEX. 


605 


Manuzio,  Aldo  (Continued). 

Italian  publications,  383 ;  his  Acad- 
emy at  Venice,  385,  v.  272  ;  his  mar- 
riage and  death,  ii.  388 ;  his  succes- 
sors, 389 ;  meaning  of  his  motto,  389  ; 
his  modesty  and  nobility  of  character, 
368,  390,  523  ;  greatness  of  his  work, 
391 ;  his  prefaces,  &c.,  cited  for  the 
sufferings  of  scholars,  542  :  Aldo,  the 
grandson,  ii.  389 :  Antonio,  son  of 
Aldo,  388:  Manutio,  son  of  Aldo, 
388  :  Paolo,  son  of  Aldo,  385,  388 

Marcello,  Cristoforo,  tortured  by  the 
Spaniards  during  the  Sack  of  Rome, 
ii.  444 

Marchesa,  Cassandra,  her  relations  to 
Sannazzaro,  v.  199 

Marco  Polo,  translation  of  his  Travels 
into  Italian,  iv.  35 

Marcolini,  Francesco,  his  account  of 
Aretino's  life  at  Venice,  v.  398  note 
2,  400  note  3 

Marescotti,  the,  at  Bologna,  their  his- 
tory, i.  124,  427 

Margaret  of  Castile  (wife  of  Alfonso 
the  Magnanimous) ;  her  murder  of 
Margaret  de  Hijar,  i.  570 

Margaret  cle  Hijar,  murder  of  her  by 
Queen  Margaret,  i.  570 

Mariconda,  Antonio,  his  Novelle,  v.  60 

Marino,  Giovanni  Battista,  the  Adone, 
v.  244,  257 ;  his  conceits  referred  to 
Aretino's  mannerism,  417 

Marliano,  Bartolommeo,  his  Topog- 
raphy of  Rome,  ii.  428 

Marlowe,  his  Edward  II.  quoted  for 
the  character  of  Italian  plays,  v.  in 

Marone,  his  losses  in  the  Sack  of  Rome, 
ii.  444 

Marrani,  popular  name  of  contempt  for 
the  Spaniards  in  Italy,  i.  410,  553 

Marsigli,  Luigi,  influence  of,  through 
the  society  founded  by  him  in  S.  Spir- 
ito,  ii.  101-103,  *89 

Marston  (the  dramatist),  his  testimony 
to  the  profligacy  of  Venice,  i.  473  ; 
his  Prologue  to  Antonio  and  Mellida 
quoted,  v.  115,  521 

Marsuppini,  Carlo,  a  scholar  of  Giovan- 
ni da  Ravenna,  ii.  loo  ;  learns  Greek 
from  Chrysoloras,  no;  his  lectures 
at  Florence,  and  public  funeral  there, 
186  (cp.  530) ;  story  of  his  being  sur- 


Marsuppini,  Carlo  (Continued]. 

passed  by  Manetti  in  speaking  before 
Frederick  III.,  190;  made  Papal 
Secretary  by  Eugenius  IV.,  220 
Martelli,  Lodovico,  his  Tragedy  of  Tttl- 
l'ai  v-  r35  J  disputes  the  genuineness 
of  Dante's  De  Vulgari  Eloquio 
against  Trissone,  306:  Niccoli,  his 
correspondence  with  Aretino,  410 
note  \ 

Martin  V.,  story  of  his  irritation  at  the 
verses  sung  by  the  Florentines  beneath 
his  window,  iv.  258 

Martini,  Simone,  reputed  painter  of 
frescoes  in  S.  Maria  Novella,  iii.  205 
note  i,  217  ;  not  wholly  free  from  the 
faults  of  the  Sienese  painters,  216, 
218 ;  his  fame  during  his  lifetime, 
216;  various  works  by  him,  217; 
mention  of  him  by  Petrarch,  217  note  I 
Masaccio,  i.  170  note  \  ;  the  pupil  of  Ma- 
solino,  iii.  229  note  i  ;  the  greatest  of 
the  early  painters  of  the  Renaissance, 
229 ;  comparison  of  Masaccio  and 
Giotto,  230 ;  his  early  death,  231  ; 
comparison  of  Masaccio  and  Fra 
Angelico,  240 
Masolino,  the  master  of  Masaccio,  iii. 

229  note  i 
Massimi,  the,  at  Rome,  their  protection 

of  Sweynheim  and  Pannartz,  ii.  368 
Masuccio,  quoted  for  the  corruptions  of 
the  Roman  Church,  i.  458  note  2,  iv. 
180,  181  (cp.  v.  499) ;  for  the  Italian 
ideas  of  honour,  486  note  2  ;  his  style 
modelled  on  the  Decameron,  iv.  136, 
178;  character  of  his  language,  179; 
comparison  between  Masuccio,  Boc- 
caccio, and  Sacchetti,  179;  his  aris- 
tocratic feeling,  179;  his  earnestness, 
i  So  ;  his  art,  181 ;  superior  in  moral 
feeling  to  Boccaccio,  183  ;  alluded  to 
by  Pulci,  255  note  I 
Matarazzo,  cited,  i.  22,  158  note  i,  225  ; 
his  account  of  Grifonetto  Baglioni's 
massacre  of  his  kinsmen.  123  ;  of  the 
misgovernment  of  the  Baglioni,  130  ; 
cited  for  the  spread  of  syphilis  from 
Charles's  army,  567  note  \  \  his  testi 
mony  to  the  welcome  of  the  French 
by  the  common  people  in  Italy,  583 
note  2  ;  on  the  comeliness  of  person 
of  Astorre  Baglioni,  ii.  31  ;  great 


6o6 


INDEX. 


Matarazzo  (Continued). 
value  of  his  work,  iv.  177  ;  said  to  be 
identical  with  Francesco  Maturanzio, 
183  note  3 

Mattasala  di  Spinello  dei  Lambertini, 
his  accounts  of  expenditure,  an  early 
memorial  of  the  Sienese  dialect,  iv.  35 

Matteo,  and  Bonino,  da  Campione.  (See 
Campione,  Matteo  and  Bonino.) 

Matteo  da  Civitale.  (See  Civitale, 
Matteo  da.) 

Matthaeus,  Johannes,  his  verses  upon 
the  death  of  Navagero,  ii.  488 

Maturanzio,  Francesco,  said  to  be  iden- 
tical with  Matarazzo,  iv.  183  note  3 

Mauro,  a  member  of  the  Vignajuoli 
Academy  at  Rome,  ii.  366,  v.  357; 
his  Capitoli,  v.  365 

Maximilian  I.,  the  Emperor,  i.  100,  v. 
301  ;  his  relations  with  Charles  VIII., 
i.  542  ;  betrothed  to  Bianca,  niece  of 
Lodovico  Sforza,  544  note  i ;  joins  the 
League  of  Venice  against  Charles,  576 

Maximus,  Pacificus,  his  Poems,  ii.  519 

Mazochi,  Jacopo,  his  collection  of  Ro- 
man Inscriptions,  ii.  429 

Mazzocchi  del  Bondeno,  Giovanni,  the 
first  publisher  of  the  Orlando  Furioso, 
iv.  497 

Mazzola,  Francesco.  (See  II  Parmigi- 
ano.) 

Mazzoni,  Guido  (II  Modanino),  liisPietH 
in  terra  cotta  in  Monte  Oliveto,  Na- 
ples, ii.  365,  iii.  163 

Medicean  Library,  its  foundation,  i.  21, 
ii.  174 

Medici,  the,  i.  88;  their  patronage  of 
art,  80  ;  disputed  question  of  its  na- 
ture, iii.  263,  iv.  39 ;  their  tyranny 
partly  produced  by  political  exhaus- 
tion, i.  82  ;  supported  by  the  people, 
87,  il  171,  316,  317,  .iv.  385  ;  their 
rise  to  power,  i.  114,  228-231  ;  their 
expulsion,  222;  are  restored,  223, 
314 ;  their  contest  with  the  Albizzi, 
227  note  i,  ii.  167,  170,  iv.  176  ;  their 
policy,  i.  228,  282,  ii.  165,  167,  312, 
317,  iii.  264,  iv.  385  ;  foundation  %of 
the  Medicean  interests  in  Rome,  1. 
404,  ii.  315;  raised  above  common 
tyrants  by  their  love  of  culture,  ii.  33  ; 
have  the_/?<f«rj  de  lys  of  France  con- 
ferred on  them  by  Louis  XI.,  iv.  405 


Medici,  Alessandro  de',  Duke  of  Civiti  di 
Penna,  i.  231  ;  murdered  by  his  cousin 
Lorenzino,  170,  223,  277,  287,  468, 
ii.  317,  iii.  438,  v.  1 1 8,  381  note  i; 
poisons  his  cousin  Ippolito,  i.  277,  v. 
358,  381  note  i ;  leaves  Florence,  i. 
286,  iii.  414 ;  accused  by  the  Floren- 
tines before  Charles  V.,  232, 280, 298  ; 
protects  Cellini  from  the  consequences 
of  a  homicide,  iii.  458  ;  the  story  that 
he  had  Berni  poisoned,  v.  358  :  Aver- 
ardo  de',  i.  ziznoie  I :  Catharine  de', 
her  marriage  to  the  Uuke  of  Orleans, 
287 :  Clarice  de',  wife  of  Filippo 
Strozzi,  286  :  Cosimo  de'  (the  elder), 
his  return  to  Florence,  iv.  259;  his 
policy  at  Florence,  i.  87,  102,  155, 
212,  228,  ii.  312,  iii.  438  ;  Guicciar- 
dini's  critique  of  his  taxation,  i.  305  ; 
the  impersonation  of  his  age,  492,  ii. 
168,  170,  iii.  228,  262,  325  ;  his  re- 
gret that  he  had  not  built  more,  ii. 
38,  172  ;  his  patronage  of  letters,  165, 
168,  173,  177,225;  subtlety  of  his 
character,  169  ;  his  cruelty,  170  ;  sums 
spent  by  him  in  building,  171,  172  ; 
consults  Pope  Eugenius  as  to  how  he 
should  make  restitution  for  his  ill- 
gotten  gains,  172  ;  builds  the  Library 
of  S.  Giorgio  at  Venice  during  his 
exile,  173;  his  Libraries  at  Florence, 
i.  21,  ii.  174-176,  iii.  263  ;  his  versa- 
tility of  talent,  ii.  176;  his  political 
cynicism  expressed  by  his  sayings,  19, 
177 ;  founds  the  Academy  of  Florence, 
177,  207,  v.  272;  his  conversations 
with  Gemistos,  ii.  207 ;  rejects  Bru- 
nelleschi's  plans  for  the  Casa  Medici, 
iii.  76  ;  said  to  have  instigated  the 
poisoning  of  II  Burchiello,  iv.  260 : 
Cosimo  de'  (first  Grand  Duke),  i.  223, 
229  ;  his  elevation  due  to  Guicciar- 
dini,  280,  300 ;  diverts  the  Florentines 
from  commerce,  186  note  I  ;  his  petty, 
meddling  character,  iii.  476 :  Fer- 
rando  de',  his  marriage  to  Cristina  of 
Lorraine,  iv.  325  :  Giovanni  de'  (see 
Leo  X. )  :  Giovanni  de*  (delle  Bande 
Nere),  his  friendship  with  Aretino,  v. 
390 ;  his  death,  391 :  Giuliano  de' 
(the  elder),  assassination  of,  i.  168  note 
I,  396-398,  iv.  401  note  I,  406 ;  his 
love  for  Simonetta  la  Bella,  iv.  374, 


INDEX. 


607 


Medici,  Alessandro  de'  ( Continued). 
403.  420 ;  his  Tournament,  403 : 
Giuliano  de',  Duke  of  Nemours,  i. 
184,  ii.  314 ;  refuses  the  Duchy  of 
Urbino,  i.  438 ;  his  Pageant  of  the 
Golden  Age.  iv.  396-398 ;  his  tomb 
at  San  Lorenzo,  i.  314,  319,  iii.  415  : 
Cardinal  Giulio  de'  (see  Clement 
VII.)  :  Cardinal  Ippolito  de',  leaves 
Florence,  i.  286,  iii.  414 ;  founds  a 
club  for  the  study  of  Vitruvius  at 
Rome,  ii.  366  ;  said  to  have  main- 
tained three  hundred  poets,  405 ; 
poisoned  by  his  cousin  Alessandro,  i. 
277»  v-  35^  381  note  i  ;  portraits  of 
him  by  Titian  and  Pontormo,  ii.  27  ; 
the  story  that  he  had  Berni  poisoned, 
v.  358:  Lorenzinode', assassinates  his 
cousin  Alessandro,  i.  170,  223,  277, 
287,  468,  iii.  438,  v.  1 1 8,  381  note  I ; 
his  Apology,  i.  468,  v.  517  ;  murdered 
by  Bibboni,  i.  480  note  3 ;  Cellini's 
character  of  him,  iii.  463  ;  his  comedy, 
the  Aridosio,  v.  182:  Lorenzo  de' 
(brother  of  Cosimo  the  elder),  patron- 
ises Marsuppini,  ii.  187  :  Lorenzo  de', 
the  Magnificent,  his  suspicious  tem- 
per, i.  119;  his  appropriation  of  pub- 
lic moneys,  305  ;  Guicciardini's  char- 
acter of  him,  308 ;  describes  Rome  to 
his  son  Giovanni  as  '  the  sink  of  all 
vices,' 421  (cp.  v.  190),  v.  274;  at- 
tempt on  his  life,  1.397  note  2',  balance 
of  power  created  by  him  in  Italy,  404 
note  2,  538,  544,  ii.  315,  iv.  368  ;  his 
character  the  type  of  the  Renaissance, 
1504, 505, 523, ii.  321,  iv.  384;  recalls 
Savonarola  to  Florence,  i.  521 ;  his 
dying  interview  with  Savonarola,  523, 
iv.  384 ;  universality  of  his  genius,  ii. 

10,  320 ;  transfers  the  High   School 
of  Florence  to  Pisa,  122  ;  his  policy, 

11.  315,  iii.  264,  iv.  369,  386;  without 
commercial  talent,  ii.  317 ;  the  true 
view   of  his  character,    318,   iv.  39, 
387 ;  literary  society  gathered  round 
him,  ii.  322  ;  his  love  of  the  vernacu- 
lar literature,  393,  iv.  3,  236,  370,  v. 
508 ;  has  a  monument  erected  to  Fi- 
lippo  Lippi,    iii.  247  ;  his  character 
typically   Florentine,   iv.    371 ;    wins 
the  prize  of  valour  at  a  tournament  in 
1468,  405  ;  his  taste  for  buffoonery, 


Medici,  Alessandro  de'  (Continued). 
430  note  2  ;  Ariosto's  character  of  him 
in  the  satires,  516;  character  of  his 
poems,  371,  372;  his  Lands,  302, 
384  ;  his  sacred  drama,  .S".  Giovanni  e 
Paolo,  320,  324,  384 ;  his  treatment 
of  love,  373-375  ;  the  Sonnet  to 
Venus  and  that  to  the  Evening  Star 
translated,  373;  analytical  character 
of  his  genius,  377  ;  the  Stive  d'A more, 
376-380;  passages  translated,  376- 
380 ;  use  of  the  ottava  rima  in  the 
Stfat,  379 ;  the  Corinto,  379 ;  pas- 
sage translated,  380;  the  Ambra, 
380;  the  Nencia  da  Barberino  and 
other  rustic  poems,  381,  v.  223 ;  the 
JBeonl,  iv.  172,  382;  his  Canzoni  a 
Ballo,  385-388 ;  his  Canti  Carna- 
scialeschi,  388-392  (cp.  i  461) ;  the 
Song  of  Bacchus  and  Ariadne  trans- 
lated, 390 ;  said  to  have  originated 
this  form  of  composition,  388,  v. 
355  :  Lorenzo  de' (nephew  of  Leo  X.), 
made  Duke  of  Urbino  by  Leo,  i.  322, 
438,  ii.  420,  iv.  396 ;  advised  by  Fi- 
lippo  Strozzi  to  make  himself  Duke 
of  Florence,  286 ;  Machiavelli's 
Prince  dedicated  to  him,  319:  Mad- 
dalena  de',  married  to  Franceschetto, 
son  of  Innocent  VIII.,  404 :  Pierode' 
(77  Gottosa),  ii.  313  :  Piero  de'  (the 
younger),  i.  305  ;  his  cowardly  sur- 
render of  the  Tuscan  fortresses,  525, 
559  ;  his  relation  to  the  Orsini,  543  ; 
inclines  to  friendship  with  Naples, 
543  ;  his  weak  and  foolish  character, 
i.  544 ;  driven  out  by  the  Florentines, 
559,  iii.  389 

Melanchthon,  the  pupil  of  Reuchlin,  ii. 
208,  210 

Melozzo  da  Forli,  his  picture  of  Sixtus 
IV.  among  his  Cardinals,  i.  384  note 
I,  iii.  236  note  \  ;  his  picture  of  Fred- 
erick, Duke  of  Urbino,  and  his  Court, 
ii.  304,  iii.  236  note  I ;  the  pupil  of 
Piero  della  Francesca,  iii.  235 

Melzi,  Francesco,  the  scholar  of  Lion- 
ardo  da  Vinci,  iii.  484 

Memling,  comparison  of  his  works  with 
those  of  the  Venetian  masters,  iii.  361 

Memmi,  Simone.  (See  Martini,  Simoni.) 

Merula,  quoted  for  the  justice  of  Azzo 
Visconti,  i.  83  note  I 


6o8 


INDEX. 


Messina  Cathedral,  the,  marble  panel- 
lings in,  iii.  79  note  3 ;  Montorsoli's 
fountain,  177 

Metres,  the  question  why  different  na- 
tions have  adopted  different  metres, 
iv.  24;  the  Italian  hendecasyllabic,  24 
note  \  (see  Appendix  i);.the  ottava 
rima  popularised  by  Boccaccio's  Tes- 
eide,  118  ;  use  of  the  ottava  rima  by 
Lorenzo  de1  Medici  and  Poliziano, 
379,  382,  403 ;  of  the  terza  rima  in 
Capitoli  and  Satires,  519  ;  vicissitudes 
of  the  terza  rima  after  Dante,  172; 
employment  of  the  terza  rima  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  v.  367  ;  originality 
of  the  Italian  metrical  systems,  510 

Michelet,  quoted,  i.  10;  his  formula  of 
the  Discovery  of  World  and  Man,  15 
note  I  (cp.  v.  526) ;  his  remark  that 
the  French  alone  understood  Italy, 
criticised,  585  ;  his  description  of  the 
building  of  Brunelleschi's  Dome  at 
Florence,  iii.  67 

Michelotti,  Biordo,  murder  of,  i.  123, 
148  note  2 

Michelozzo,  his  work  as  an  architect,  ii. 
440 ;  builds  the  Riccardi  Palace  at 
Florence,  iii.  76 ;  employed  by  Cosi- 
mo  de'  Medici,  263 

Middle  Ages,  their  ignorance,  i.  6, 13, 20, 
24 ;  the  beauty  of  nature  unappreci- 
ated in  the  middle  ages,  1 3 ;  progress 
effected  by  the  middle  ages,  6,  7  ; 
conception  of  life  in,  10,  13,  14,  iv. 
289,  v.  454,  455,  456;  memories  of 
antiquity  in  the  middle  ages,  ii.  52  ; 
character  of  the  middle  ages  illus- 
trated from  the  Faust  Legend,  53 ; 
low  state  of  scholarship  in  the  middle 
ages,  58  foil. ;  materialism  and  mysti- 
cism of  the  middle  ages,  iii.  9 ;  archi- 
tecture the  pre-eminent  art  of  the 
middle  ages,  10 ;  uncompromising 
Christianity  of  the  middle  ages,  26 ; 
medieval  prepossession  with  death, 
hell,  and  judgment,  i.  13,  iii.  198, 
201,  iv.  74,  v.  454,  471  ;  medieval 
ideas  of  the  claims  of  the  Churchjl- 
lustrated  by  paintings  of  the  Triumph 
of  Thomas,  iii.  205-210 ;  medieval 
theories  of  government  illustrated  by 
Lorenzetti's  frescoes  at  Siena,  210- 
214;  allegory  in  the  middle  ages,  iv. 


Middle  Ages  {Continued). 

74,  81  ;  the  fabliaux  of  the  middle 
ages,  107 ;  satire  in  the  middle  ages, 
108 ;  treatment  of  women  by  medieval 
authors,  212;  types  of  womanhood 
created  by  medieval  authors,  352 ; 
abandonment  of  scholasticism  for  the 
humanities,  v.  450,  457;  medieval 
speculation  never  divorced  from  the- 
ology, 457 

Milan,  greatness  of,  under  the  rule  of 
the  Bishops,  i.  53,  58,  59 ;  heads  the 
league  against  Frederick,  64,  8 1 ;  be- 
becomes  the  centre  of  the  Ghibelline 
party,  8l ;  hostility  of  Milan  and  Pia- 
cenza,  151,  162  note  i,  212;  luxury  of 
Milan,  v.  68  note  3  ;  corruption  of 
the  Milanese  Court,  i.  326,  548  note 
*»  554»  v-  I9I  j  early  printers  of 
Greek  at  Milan,  ii.  375  ;  the  wealth  of 
Milan  due  to  the  Naviglio  Grande,  iii. 
41  ;  share  of  Milan  in  the  develop- 
ment of  Italian  literature,  iv.  364 

—  Duomo,  the,  built  by  the  Visconti,  i. 
141,  iii.  42;  German  influence  in  its 
design,  iii.  50;  its  merits  and  defects, 
illustrating  the  character  of  Italian 
Gothic,  57  :  S.  Eustorgio,  chapel  of 
S.  Peter  Martyr,  terra-cotta  work  in, 
iii.  79,  151  jsTirine,  123;  S.  Gottardo, 
the  tower,  i.  133  note  2,  iii.  42 :  S. 
Maurizio  Maggiore,  Luini's  frescoes, 
iii.  485-487  (cp.  v.  62) 

Milan :  Hospital,  the,  iii.  59,  77 

Milton,  his  eulogy  of  the  Italian  Acade- 
mies, ii.  367 ;  his  indebtedness  in 
Lycidas  to  Renaissance  Latin  verse, 
400  (cp.  497  note  2) ;  compared  with 
Michelangelo,  iii.  388  ;  comparison  of 
his  epics  with  the  Italia  Liberata  of 
Trissino,  v.  308 ;  his  description  (in 
the  Areopagiticd)  of  the  decay  of 
Italian  learning,  480 ;  his  conception 
of  the  poet's  vocation  in  opposition  to 
Italian  ideas,  521 

Minerbi,  his  Vocabulary  of  Boccaccio's 
Diction,  v.  254  note  I 

Mino  da  Fiesole,  his  work  as  a  sculptor 
in  Italian  churches,  iii.  78  note  i  ; 
delicacy  and  purity  of  his  work,  152 
(cp.  iv.  66) ;  his  skill  in  character  por- 
traits, iii.  158 

Minorite  Friar?,  the,  their  denunciation 


INDEX. 


609 


Minorite  Friars,  the  (Continued}. 
of  Beccadelli's  Hermaphroditus,   ii. 
256;   their   attacks    on  Valla,    261, 
263 

Miracle  plays,  exhibition  of,  in  the  Tre- 
visan  Marches,  iv.  15,  306;  rarity  of, 
in  medieval  Italy,  306 ;  their  place 
supplied  by  the  Divozioni  and  the 
Sacre  Rappresentazioni,  307 

Mirandola,  Alberto  Pico  della,  murder 
of,  ii.  423:  Galeazzo  Pico  della,  (i) 
died  under  excommunication,  i.  133 
note  i ;  (2)  murders  his  uncle,  Gio- 
vanni Francesco,  119  note  2,  ii.  423: 
Galeotto  Pico  della,  ii.  422 :  Gio- 
vanni Francesco  Pico  della,  the  bi- 
ographer of  Savonarola,  i.  520,  ii.  36, 
423 ;  his  description  of  the  effect  of 
Savonarola's  preaching,  i.  511;  -his 
belief  in  Savonarola's  gift  of  prophecy, 
512  note  i  ;  his  account  of  the  dying 
interview  of  Lorenzo  de'  Medici  with 
Savonarola,  523  note  i;  influence  of 
Savonarola  upon  him,  ii.  423  ;  his  ad- 
dress on  the  Reformation  of  the 
Church,  423 ;  his  friendship  with 
Northern  scholars,  423  ;  murdered  by  i 
his  nephew,  i.  119  note  2,  ii.  423: 
Lodovico  Pico  della,  ii.  422 :  Pico 
della,  on  the  expulsion  of  the  Jews  by 
Ferdinand,  i.  401  ;  his  attempt  to  fuse 
Christianity  and  ancient  philosophy, 
171,  456,  ii.  470,  iii.  35,  v.  452,453; 
the  friend  of  Savonarola,  i.  520;  his 
apology  for  the  schoolmen,  ii.  333,  v. 
450  ;  universality  of  his  genius,  ii.  10; 
in  common  with  the  rest  of  his  age 
did  not  comprehend  Plato's  system, 
v.  452  ;  his  '  Oration  on  the  Dignity 
of  Man '  quoted,  ii.  48 ;  his  influence 
on  Italian  thought,  207  ;  value  of  his 
labours,  v.  453  ;  one  of  the  circle 
gathered  round  Lorenzo  de'  Medici, 
ii.  322,  329 ;  description  of  him  by 
Poliziano,  329 ;  his  portrait  in  the 
Uffizi  Gallery,  330 ;  his  devotion  to 
learning,  330,  523  ;  his  great  memory, 
331  ;  condemned  for  heresy  on  ac- 
count of  his  900  theses,  332 ;  his 
ideal  of  knowledge,  332  ;  studies  the 
Cabbala,  334 ;  his  attack  on  astrology, 
335  ;  his  contempt  for  mere  style, 
526  ;  his  Latin  correspondence,  532  ; 


Mirandola,  Alberto  Pico  della  (Confd). 
preferred  Lorenzo  de'  Medici  to  Pe- 
trarch as  a  poet,  iv.  236 

Miscomini,  Antonio,  an  early  printer  at 
Florence,  ii.  369 

Modena,  verses  sung  by  the  soldiers  on 
guard  against  the  Huns  there,  iv.  12 
(cp.  Appendix  i.) 

Molza,  Francesco  Maria,  facts  of  his 
life,  v.  225-228;  a  member  of  the 
Roman  Academy,  ii.  361 ;  of  the 
Vignajuoli,  366,  v.  357 ;  patronized 
by  Ippolito  de'  Medici,  ii.  405  ;  sides 
with  Caro  in  his  quarrel  with  Castcl- 
vetro,  v.  286;  his  correspondence 
with  Aretino,  410  note  i ;  his  Latin 
poems,  ii.  488-490,  v.  228 ;  passage 
translated  (in  prose),  489 ;  his  De- 
famerone,  v.  60;  Molza  as  an  Italian 
poet,  228-234;  the  Ninfa  Tiberina^ 
225,  229  ;  illustrated  by  contemporary 
art,  229 ;  Molza's  use  of  the  octave 
stanza,  230;  analysis  of  the  poem, 
230-234;  translations,  231,  232,  233; 
the  Capitoli,  284,  364 

Molza,  Tarquinia,  granddaughter  of  the 
poet,  v.  288 

Monaldeschi,  the  Chronicler,  quoted, 
i.  252 

Monarchy :  why  Italy  did  not  become  a 
monarchy,  i.  92-95 

Montaigne,  entertained  by  Veronica 
Franco  at  Venice  in  1580,  v.  288 

Montalcino,  his  execution,  v.  478 

Montanini,  the,  at  Siena,  v.  99 

Montano,  the  Bolognese  scholar,  L  165 

Montaperti,  battle  of,  iii.  214 

Monte  Labbate,  Conte  di,  his  letter  to 
Pompeo  Pace,  describing  the  influ- 
ence exercised  by  Aretino,  v.  402 
note  2 

Montefalco,  Gozzoli's  frescoes,  iii.  242 

Montefeltro,  the  House  of,  i.  no,  375  ; 
members  of  this  family  become  Con- 
dottieri,  161 

—  Agnesina  da,  mother  of  Vittona  Co- 
lonna,  v.  289:  Frederick  da.  Duke  of 
Urbino,  the  suspicion  of  his  legiti- 
macy, i.  102;  his  life  and  character, 
174-181  ;  receives  the  Garter  from 
Henry  VII.,  181  ;  his  library,  ii.  304  ; 
the  picture  of  him  and  his  Court  by 
Melozzo  da  Forli,  304,  iii.  236  note 


6io 


INDEX. 


Montefeltro,  Agnesina  da  {Continued). 
I  ;  his  portrait  by  Piero  della  Fran- 
cesca,  iii.  235  ;  Giovanna  da,  daughter 
of  Frederick,  Duke  of  Urbino,  mar- 
ried to  Giovanni  della  Rovere,  i.  182 
note  2,  393,  ii.  419 :  Gukiobaldo  da, 
Duke  of  Urbino,  his  character  and 
accomplishments,  i.  181-182  ;  receives 
the  Garter  from  Henry  VII.,  ii.  420  ; 
Bembo's  Dialogue  in  praise  of  him, 
412 :  Oddo  Antonio  da,  murder  of,  i. 

121 

Montemurlo,  battle  of,  i.  287 
Montesccco,  Giambattista,  his  share  in 

the  Pazzi  Conspiracy,  i.  397,  398 
Montferrat,  the  House  of,  1.52,  57,  no, 

146  note  i 

Monti,  the,  names  for  successive  gov- 
ernments at  Siena,  i.  35,  207,  616,  ii. 

164,  iii.  212  note  I 
Montorsoli,   Gian   Angelo,    follower  of 

Michelangelo,  iiL  172  ;  his  fountain  at 

Messina,  177 
Monza,  battle  of,  i.  161 
Morando,   Benedetto,  his  quarrel   with 

Valla,  ii.  242 
Morello,  II,  iii.  503 
Morena,  Ottone,  his  Chronicle  of  Milan, 

i.  251 
Morone,   Giovanni,  his  friendship  with 

Vittoria  Colonna,  v.  292 
Morone,  Girolamo,  his  intrigue  with  the 

Marquis  of  Pescara,  v.  290 
Moroni,  Giovanni  Battista,  his  genius  in 

portrait-painting,  iii.  503  (cp.  v.  278) 
Morosini,  Paolo,  his  consolatory  letter 

to  Filelfo  on  the  death  of  his  wife,  ii. 

287 

Mosca.  his  statuary  at  Orvieto,  iii.  56 
Mucchio  da  Lucca,  his  Sonnet  on  Dante, 

iv.  162 
Museum,  Capitol,  foundation  of  the,  ii. 

431  :  Vatican,  foundation  of  the,  431  ; 

description  of  the  sculptures  there  by 

a  Venetian  envoy,  434-436 
Music  :   the  development  of  music,  iii. 

36  ;  music  the  essentially  modern  art, 

37  ;  difference   between    Italian-   and 
German  music,  v.  516 

Mussato,  Albertino,  his  Eceerinis,  v. 
117  note  i  ;  cited  for  the  traditional 
reverence  of  Livy  at  Padua,  iv.  12 

Mussi,  his  Milanese  annals,  i.  Si 


Musurus,  Marcus,  the  assistant  of  Aldo 
Manuzio,  ii.  378 ;  a  member  of  the 
Aldine  Academy,  386 ;  his  knowledge 
of  Latin,  386  note  2  \  made  Bishop  of 
Malvasia,  402  ;  lectures  in  Leo's  Gym- 
'  nasium  at  Rome,  427 

Muzio,  his  Life  of  Duke  Frederick  of 
Urbino,  quoted,  i.  174 

Muzio,  Girolamo,  his  Battaglie,  v.  271 
note  i 


TV  T  ANTIPORTO,  quoted,  L  22 
j_^  Naples,  entry  of  the  French  into 
Naples,  i.  566,  575,  ii.  363  ;  history  of 
the  Neapolitan  Kingdom  under  the 
Aragonese  Dynasty,  567-574  ;  hos- 
tility of  Naples  to  the  Church,  ii. 
260,  265;  feudalism  lasted  longer  in 
Naples  than  in  other  parts  of  Italy, 
251,  iv.  460,  v.  499;  insecurity  of  life 
in  Naples,  i.  569;  Neapolitan  man- 
ners described  in  the  Poems  of  Pon- 
tano,  v.  217;  beauty  of  Naples,  201; 
traces  of  French  influence  on  Nea- 
politan architecture,  iii.  44;  charac- 
ter of  Neapolitan  culture,  ii.  250, 
265;  Neapolitan  influence  on  litera- 
ture, v.  213  folL;  sensuousness  of 
Neapolitan  writers,  ii.  251,  364,  468, 
iv.  26,  364,  y.  213,  499,  521 

—  Monte     Oliveto,     Fra     Giovanni's 
tarsia-work,  iii.  •j&note  2;  Rosellino's 
altarpiece,  153;  Benedetto's  Annun- 
ciation, 160;  Mazzoni's  Pietcl,  ii.  365, 
iiL  163,  T.  198 

—  Academy,  the,  ii.  362,  364 

—  University,   the,  founded  by   Fred- 
erick II.,  ii.  116;  its  subsequent  vi- 
cissitudes, 117 

Neapolitan  School  of  Painters,  the,  their 
brutality,  iii.  25,  187 

Nardi,  Jacopo,  cited,  i.  226,  229  note 
2;  pleads  for  the  Florentine  exiles 
before  Charles  V.,  232,  280;  his  His- 
tory of  Florence,  278,  279;  on  the 
democratic  side,  290;  character  and 
value  of  his  work,  291,  292;  his  ac- 
count of  Savonarola,  290,  292,  511 
note  i,  512  note  I,  534  note  i;  his 
account  of  Guicciardini,  299  note  2; 
cited  for  the  murder  of  the  Manfredi, 
292,  428  note  i ;  acts  as  peacemaker 


INDEX. 


611 


Nardi,  Jacopo  (Continued). 
in  Cellini's  quarrel  with  the  Floren- 
tine exiles,  iii.  463;  aids  in  the  com- 
position of  the  Pageant  of  the  Golden 
Age»  iv.  397.  (See  Appendix  ii.,  vol. 
i.  for  translation  of  a  passage  on  the 
government  of  Florence.) 

Narses,  brings  the  Lombards  into  Italy, 
i.  47 

Navagero,  Andrea,  a  member  of  the 
Aldine  Academy,  ii.  387;  his  flattery 
of  Julius  II..  494  ;  his  Venetian  ori- 
gin, illustrating  the  loss  of  intellectual 
supremacy  by  Florence,  506;  his 
Latin  poems,  their  beauty  and  grace, 
453,  485-488;  translations  (prose) 
485-488 

Naviglio  Grande,  construction  of  the, 
iii.  41 

Nelli,  Giustiniano,  his  Novelle,  v.  60 

Nepotism  of  the  Popes,  i.  113,  303,  372, 

37>  388,  392,  413.  434 

Neri  and  Bianchi  factions,  the,  at  Flo- 
rence, i.  221,  225;  at  Pistoja,  210 
note  2 

Nerli,  Filippo,  his  I^istory  of  Florence, 
i.  278,  279;  took  part  m  the  political 
events  of  his  time,  280;  belonged  to 
the  Medicean  party,  290;  value  of  his 
work,  293:his  account  of  Machia- 
velli's  DiscouTses-ifl  4he  Rucellai  Gar- 
dens, 328,  ii.  366 ;  cited  for  the 
downfall  of  Cesare  Borgia's  plans 
after  the  death  of  his  father,  i.  431 

Neroni,  Diotisalvi,  his  conspiracy  against 
Piero  de'  Medici,  ii.  314 

Niccolo  da  Correggio,  his  drama  of  Ce- 
falo,  iv.  357,  v.  221;  acted  before 
Duke  Ercole  at  Ferrara,  v.  139 

Niccoli,  Niccolo  de',  turns  Piero  de' 
Pazzi  from  a  life  of  pleasure  to  study, 
ii.  41;  one  of  the  circle  in  Santo 
Spirito,  102  ;  helps  to  bring  Chryso- 
loras  to  Florence,  109,  no;  cited  for 
the  practice  of  scholars  making  their 
own  copies  of  MSS.,  131,  179;  gener- 
osity of  Cosimo  de'  Medici  to  him, 
173;  his  bequest  of  MSS.,  174,  178; 
his  zeal  in  collecting  MSS.,  178;  his 
judgment  of  style,  179;  his  literary 
dictatorship  at  Florence,  180;  Vespa- 
siano's  account  of  him,  181;  his  ex- 
acting temperament,  182,  275;  did 


Niccoli,  Niccolo  de'  (Continued). 

not  know  Greek,  194  note  i;  his 
kindness  to  Poggio,  230  note  i;  l.is 
quarrel  with  Bruni,  243;  his  contempt 
for  Dante,  iv.  436 

Niccol6  da  Padova,  quotes  Turpin  as 
his  authority  for  his  History  of 
Charlemagne,  iv.  439  note  i 

Nicholas  of  Breslau,  an  early  printer  at 
Florence,  ii.  369 

Nicholas  II.,  i.  60 

Nicholas  V.,  his  catalogue  of  Niccolfc 
Niccoli's  MSS.,  ii.  174,  175,  225;  his 
humble  birth,  222;  comes  to  Florence, 
223;  acts  as  tutor  in  the  households  of 
Rinaldo  degli  Albizzi  and  Palla  degli 
Strozzi,  165,  223;  generosity  of  Co- 
simo de'  Medici  to  him  while  Bishop 
of  Bologna,  173;  his  character,  244 
(cp.  523) ;  his  election  to  the  Papacy, 
i.  371,  ii.  173,  225;  his  speech  to  Ves- 
pasiano  after  his  election,  ii.  226;  re- 
stores the  Papal  Court  to  Rome,  i. 
88;  his  treaty  with  the  great  Italian 
States,  89;  description  of  his  adminis- 
tration by  Leo  Albert  i,  377;  receives 
Manetti  after  his  exile,  ii.  192,  228; 
founds  the  Vatican  Library,  i.  21,  ii. 
227;  his  policy,  i.  377-380,  ii.  227; 
his  project  for  rebuilding  St.  Peter's, 
i.  379,  iii.  90;  why  he  did  nothing  for 
the  Roman  University,  ii.  227;  trans- 
lations executed  by  his  command, 
228,  402;  rewards  Filelfo  for  his 
Satires,  236  (cp.  514);  employs  Pog- 
gio against  the  Anti-Pope  Felix,  237; 
his  toleration,  as  shown  by  his  protec- 
tion of  Valla,  262;  his  destruction  of 
ancient  monuments  at  Rome,  430; 
his  Will,  L  379 

Nicholas  of  Treves,  sends  a  MS.  of 
Plautus  to  Rome,  ii.  140 

Nifo,  Agostino,  takes  part  in  the  con- 
troversy raised  by  the  publication  of 
Pomponazzi's  De  Immortalitate  Ani- 
mes,  v.  460 

Niger,      Hieronymus,    cited    for    1 
wickedness  of  Rome,  ii.  446 

Nino  (son  of  Andrea  da  Pontadera), 
sculptor  of  the  Madonna  della  Rosa 
in  the  Spina  Chapel,  iii.  123 

Nobility,  Italian  ideas  of,  i.  186  note  I, 
iv.  125 


6l2 


INDEX. 


Nobles,  the,  excluded  from  the  govern- 
ment of  Florence,  i.  224,  iv.  27,  51 

Nocera,  establishment  of  a  Saracen 
colony  there  by  Frederick  II.,  i.  105 

Nominalists,  the,  v.  466,  467 

Norcia,  one  of  the  two  chief  centres  of 
Italian  witchcraft,  v.  346 

Normans,  the  Norman  conquest  of 
Southern  Italy,  i.  58,  ii.  251 

Novelists,  the  Italian,  their  testimony 
to  the  corruption  of  the  Roman 
Church,  i.  458,  476,  486  note  I,  ii. 
406,  iv.  180,  181;  to  Florentine  im- 
morality, iv.  337  note  2  ;  importance 
of  the  novella  in  the  history  of  the 
Renaissance,  158;  the  novella  espe- 
cially suited  to  the  Italian  genius, 
426,  v.  52,  53,  1  06,  114-116;  manner 
in  which  women  are  treated  by  the 
novelists,  iv.  212,  v.  185;  versified 
novels  of  the  Quattro  Cento,  iv.  249- 
255;  testimony  of  the  novelists  to  the 
great  intercourse  between  the  Italian 
provinces  from  1200-1550,  271;  the 
Novelle  written  for  the  amusement 
of  the  bourgeoisie,  v.  52;  definition  of 
the  word  novella,  54;  the  Novelle 
originally  recitations,  55;  subjects  and 
material  of  the  Novelle,  55-57,  59; 
their  object  was  amusement,  56,  57; 
their  indelicacy,  as  illustrating  con- 
temporary manners,  58;  inequality  of 
merit  among  them,  58;  reasons  why 
the  Elizabethan  dramatists  were  at- 
tracted to  them,  59,  117;  the  Intro- 
ductions of  the  Novelle,  61;  degree 
in  which  they  are  to  be  accepted  as 
fiction,  8  r;  characteristics  of  the 
novelists  of  Siena,  96;  the  scope  and 
limitations  of  the  Novelle,  107;  in- 
fluence of  the  Novelle  upon  the 
theatre,  161,  181,  187 

Novellino,  II,  or  Le  Novelle  Antiche, 
the  first  collection  of  Italian  stories, 
iv.  107,  129 

Novels,  defect  of  the  Italians  in  true 
novels  of  the  modern  type,  v.  120 

CHINO,     Fra     Bernardino,    "bis 
friendship  with  VittoriaColonna, 
v.  292 

Odasio,  the  tutor  of  Guiclobaldo,  Duke 
of  Urbino,  i.  181 


O 


Odassi,  Tifi,  said  to  have  been  the  in- 
ventor of  Maccaronic  verse,  v.  329 
note  3 ;  quoted  in  illustration  of  its 
character,  328  note  I ;  the  description 
of  a  bad  painter,  330;  possibly  the 
author  of  the  anonymous  poem  on 
Vigonja,  331  ;  his  use  of  the  Macca- 
ronic style,  336 

Oddi,  the,  at  Perugia,  i.  225 ;  worsted 
by  the  Baglioni,  115,  123 

Odo  delle  Colonne,  shows  in  his  Lament 
traces  of  genuine  Italian  feeling,  iv.  26 

Odoacer,  i.  46 

Oggiono,  Marco  d',  the  Scholar  of  Lio- 
nardo  da  Vinci,  iii.  484 

Ognibene  da  Lonigo,  effect  of  his  teach- 
ing at  Vicenza,  ii.  249 

Olgiati,  Girolamo,  one  of  the  assassins 
of  Galeazzo  Maria  Sforza,  i.  166,  466, 
v.  119 

Oliverotto  da  Fermo,  his  murder  of  his 
uncle,  i.  119  note  2,  168  note  i,  354; 
takes  part  in  the  Diet  of  La  Magione, 
351  ;  murdered  at  Sinigaglia  by  Ce- 
sare  Borgia,  351 

Onesth,  Italian  ideas  of,  i.  485 

Onesto,  Bolognese  poet,  iv.  48 

Onore,  use  of  the  word  in  Italian,  i. 
481,  485,  iv.  180  note  i  (see  Tasso)  ; 
illustrated  by  the  life  of  Benvenuto 
Cellini,  iii.  449 

Orange,  the  Prince  of,  in  command  at 
the  Siege  of  Florence,  iii.  414; 
wounded  at  the  capture  of  Rome, 
455  ;  his  troops  destroy  Sannazzaro's 
villa  at  Naples,  v.  199 

Orcagna  (Andrea  Arcagnuolo  di  Clone), 
completes  the  Church  of  Orsam- 
michele,  Florence,  iii.  63,  124;  com- 
prehensiveness of  his  genius,  124;  the 
tabernacle  there,  125 ;  architect  of 
the  Loggia  del  Bigallo,  125  ;  influence 
of  his  master,  Giotto,  upon  him,  125, 
197 ;  his  frescoes  in  the  Strozzi 
Chapel,  S.  Maria  Novella,  199 ;  beau- 
ty of  his  faces,  200  note  I  ;  probably 
not  the  painter  of  the  frescoes  in  the 
Campo  Santo,  Pisa,  200  ;  his  sinceri- 
ty, v.  195 ;  influenced  by  Dante,  iii. 
283  note  2  ;  his  Sonnet  on  Love,  iv. 
39  note  i 

Ordelaffi,  the,  of  Forli,  i.  ill,  375; 
their  patronage  of  learning,  ii.  302 


INDEX. 


613 


Ordinanze  della  Giustizia,  the,  at  Flo- 
rence, i.  224,  238,  244 

Orlandi,  the  Pisan  orator,  i.  343 

Orlandini,  Zuccagni,  his  estimation  of 
the  population  of  Florence,  L  209 

Orleans,  claim  of  the  house  of  Orleans 
to  Milan,  i.  154  note  I,  339 

Orleans,  Duke  of,  i.  577,  579,  581 

Orpheus,  fitness  of  his  legend  to  express 
the  Renaissance,  iv.  410,  v.  450 ;  the 
Orfeo  (see  Poliziano) 

Orsini,  the,  members  of  this  family  be- 
come Condottieri,  i.  161;  their  rise 
to  power,  375 ;  contest  between  the 
Orsini  and  Cesare  Borgia,  349-352 ; 
destroyed  by  Alexander  VI.,  413 ;  de- 
voted to  Naples,  543  ;  related  by  mar- 
riage to  the  Medici,  543,  ii.  314.,  354 

—  Clarice,  wife  of  Lorenzo  de'  Medici, 
L  314,  ii.  354:  Francesco,  murdered 
at  Sinigaglia  by  Cesare  Borgia,  351, 
353:  Paolo,  murdered  at  Sinigaglia 
by  Cesare  Borgia,  351:  Cardinal, 
takes  part  in  the  Diet  of  La  Magione, 
351 :  Virginio,  552  ;  buys  Anguillara 
from  Franceschetto  Cibo,  545  ;  makes 
terms  with  Charles  VIII.,  564 

Ortolana,  the,  an  Academy  at  Pia- 
cenza  :  Domenichi  and  Doni  members, 
v.  88 

Orvieto,  Duomo,  the,  illustrates  the  de- 
fects of  Italian  Gothic,  iii.  53 ;  con- 
trasted with  Northern  cathedrals,  56  ; 
Signorelli's  frescoes,  ii.  440,  iii.  56, 
280,281,  282  >  its  fa9ade,  iii.  116; 
importance  of  its  sculptures  in  the 
history  of  Italian  art,  117  ;  Fra  An- 
gelico's  frescoes,  283  note  I ;  Peru- 
gino  invited  to  work  there,  296  note 
i,  299 

Osnaga,  Orsina,  Filelfo's  second  wife, 
ii.  280 

Otho  I.,  i.  52;  assumes  the  title  of 
King  of  Italy,  52,  53 

Oltimati,  name  given  to  the  party  of 
the  oligarchy  at  Florence,  ii.  441 

Oziosi,  the,  an  Academy  at  Bologna,  ii. 
366 

PACCHIA,     GIROLAMO    DEL, 
the  scholar  of  Sodoma,  iii.  501 
Padua,    traditional   reverence  for  Livy 
there,  iv.  12 


Padua,  S.  Antonio:  Andrea  Riccio's  can- 
delabrum, iii.  78  note  i  ;  Donatello's 
bas-reliefs,  140,  270  note  i :  Chapel 
of  the  Arena,  iii.  190,  iv.  298  ;  the 
Eremitani,  Mantegna's  frescoes,  iii. 
270;  Hall  of  the  Ragione,  60,  iv.  130 

—  University,  the,  ii.  116;  pay  of 
professors  there,  122 ;  its  state  at  the 
end  of  the  fifteenth  century,  506; 
long  continuance  of  scholasticism  at 
Padua,  v.  457 ;  different  character  of 
Padua  from  other  Lombard  universi- 
ties, 460;  closing  of  the  schools  in 
1509,  460 

Padua,  Chronicle  of,  cited  for  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  Flagellants,  iv.  280 

Paganism,  mixture  of  Paganism  and 
Christianity  in  the  Renaissance,  i. 
456  note  i,  464,  iii.  i,  33-35,  107. 
( See  Renaissance. ) 

Pagello,  Bartolommeo,  his  panegyric 
of  Ognibeno  da  Lonigo,  ii.  249 

Painting,  demands  more  independence 
in  the  artist  than  architecture,  ii.  7 ; 
character  of  Greek  painting,  8 ;  effect 
on  Italian  painting  of  the  discoveries 
of  ancient  works  of  art,  439 ;  painting 
the  best  gauge  of  Italian  genius,  iii. 
5,  iv.  116,  338,  v.  18,20,49,515; 
how  painting  instead  of  sculpture  be- 
came the  exponent  of  modern  feeling, 
iii.  8,  12-21,  31,  120;  the  problem 
for  Italian  painting,  10-20,  v.  515; 
difficulties  presented  to  the  first  paint- 
ers, iii.  21 ;  first  attempts  in  painting 
to  make  beauty  an  end  in  itself,  22, 
32 ;  Italian  painting  in  the  first  period 
devoted  to  setting  forth  the  Catholic 
mythology,  27,  185;  why  painting 
has  lost  its  earlier  importance,  37; 
the  personality  of  the  different  Italian 
cities  visible  in  painting,  181 ;  con- 
trast between  the  Florentine  and  Ve- 
netian painters,  182  ;  character  of 
the  Umbrian  school,  182 ;  the  so- 
called  '  schools':  how  far  the  term  is 
justified,  183;  general  course  taken 
by  Italian  painting,  i.  17-20,  iii.  185- 
187.  v.  506;  changes  introduced  by 
Giotto  into  painting,  iii.  192 ;  charac- 
ter of  the  Sienese  masters,  214  ;  cha- 
racteristics of  Italian  painting  from 
1400-1470,  224  (cp.  v.  204);  the 


614 


INDEX. 


Painting  (Continued). 

Quattro  Cento  a  •period  of  effort,  iii. 
227  ;  exaggerated  study  of  perspective 
and  anatomy  by  these  painters,  232  ; 
the  painters  of  the  Renaissance — how 
to  be  classified,  266-269 ;  influence 
of  Dante  on  Italian  painters,  283  note 
2;  the  perfection  of  painting  in 
Michelangelo,  Lionardo  da  Vinci, 
Raphael,  and  Correggio,  312 ;  over 
attention  paid  to  the  nude  after 
Michelangelo,  397,  453 ;  the  decline 
of  painting,  481,  504 

Palaeologus,  Andrea,  sells  the  title  of 
Emperor  of  Constantinople  to  Charles 
VIII.,  i.  576  note  i :  John,  attends 
the  Council  of  Florence,  ii.  196,  205  ; 
takes  Filelfo  into  his  service,  268 

Paleario,  Aonio,  ii.  394 ;  his  Latin 
poem  on  the  Immortality  of  the  Soul, 
497 ;  his  execution,  v.  478 

Palermo:  Norman,  Arabic  and  Byzan- 
tine influence  on  Palermitan  architec- 
ture, iii.  44,  45 

Palimpsests,  ii.  129 

Palladio,  his  judgment  of  Sansovino's 
Library  of  S.  Mark,  iii.  85  ;  charac- 
ter of  his  architectural  work,  94,  v. 
505  ;  the  Palazzo  della  Ragione  at 
Vicenza,  iii.  95 ;  Palladio's  treatise 
on  Architecture,  96  note  \ 

Palladius,  Blosius,  ii.  409 

Pallavicini,  Battista,  i.  177 

Palma,  iii.  371 ;  his  Venus,  illustrating 
his  treatment  of  the  antique,  291 

Palmieri,  Matteo,  facts  of  his  life,  v. 
549  (Appendix  iii.) ;  pronounces  the 
funeral  oration  over  Marsuppini,  ii. 
187;  his  Chronicle  quoted  for  a  de- 
scription of  the  Florentine  festivals,  iv. 
316  :  author  of  the  Cittb  di  Vita, 
1 88,  v.  548  ;  history  of  the  MS.  of 
the  work,  v.  548 ;  origin  of  the  poem, 
549;  its  doctrine  on  the  Soul  and 
Fallen  Angels,  iv.  171,  v.  551;  the 
work  brings  him  into  suspicion  of 
heresy,  iv.  171  ;  the  Delia  Vita  Ci- 
vile, v.  549 ;  influence  of  Xenoghon 
on  the  work,  196  note  I  :  Mattia, 
continues  Matteo  Palmieri's  Chron- 
icle, 549 

PanciaticH,  Lorenzo,  alludes  to  the 
ballad  L1 'Awelenato,  iv.  276 


Panciroli,  his  testimony  to  the  kindness 
of  Boiardo,  iv.  458 

Pandects,  the  MS.  of  the,  taken  by  Flo- 
rence  from  Pisa,  i.  62,  ii.  351 

Pandolfini,  Agnolo,  his  treatise  Del 
Coverno  della  Famiglia,  i.  239-243, 
481 ;  said  to  have  been  really  written 
by  Leo  Battista  Alberti,  239  note  i, 
273»  "•  37.  iv.  192-203 

Panicale,  Perugino's  fresco  of  S.  Se- 
bastian, iii.  295 

Pannartz,  the  printer  at  Rome,  ii.  368 

Panvinius,  cited  for  the  murders  com- 
mitted by  Alexander  VI.,  i.  414 

Paolo  da  Castro,  his  salary  from  the 
University  of  Padua,  ii.  122 

Paolucci,  his  account  of  the  behaviour  of 
Leo  X.  at  a  representation  of  the 
Suppositi,  v.  147 

Papacy,  the,  'the  ghost  of  the  Roman 
Empire,'  i.  5 ;  rise  of  the  Papal 
power,  7,  32 ;  its  history  cosmopoli- 
tan, 41,  60;  invites  the  Franks 
against  the  Lombards,  50 ;  compact 
of  the  Papacy  with  Charlemagne,  50, 
94;  war  between  the  Papacy  and  the 
Empire,  59,  60,  68,  97,  100,  374,  iv. 
6;  election  of  the  Popes  transferred 
from  the  Emperor  to  the  Cardinals,  i. 
60;  summons  Charles  of  Anjou  into 
Italy,  75  ;  calls  in  Charles  of  Valois, 
76 ;  transference  of  the  Papal  Court 
to  Avignon,  77,  80,  374,  iv.  7 ;  re- 
stored to  Rome,  i.  88 ;  the  Papacy 
prevented  the  unification  of  Italy,  93- 
95,  ii.  2;  Machiavelli's  criticism  of 
the  Papacy,  i.  96,  382,  448-451,  v, 
436,  438,  442 ;  the  only  Italian  power 
which  survived  all  changes,  i.  98 ; 
connivance  of  the  Popes  at  crime, 
1 70  ;  paradoxical  character  of  the  Pa- 
pacy during  the  Renaissance,  371- 
374,  401 ;  Guicciardini's  observations 
on  the  Papacy,  451,452;  universal 
testimony  to  its  corruption,  446,  457, 
460 ;  Italian  ideas  about  the  Pope, 
418,  462-464,  iii.  471  ;  worldliness  of 
the  Papacy  at  the  Renaissance,  ii. 
263  ;  more  tolerant  of  obscenity  than 
of  heterodoxy,  22  ;  corruption  of  the 
Papal  Court  under  Leo  X. ,  402,  406, 
408,  516  ;  flattery  of  the  Popes  by 
the  Latin  poets  of  the  Renaissance, 


INDEX. 


Papacy,  the  (Continued}. 
493-496;  the  organisation  of  the  Pa- 
pacy due  to  Italian  genius,  iv.  7,  v. 

5*3 

Papal  Secretaries,  their  rise  into  impor- 
tance owing  to  the  influence  of  rhe- 
toric at  the  Renaissance,  ii.  216 

Paper,  where  first  made  in  Italy,  ii.  371 

Paquara,  reconciliation  of  the  Lombard 
cities  at,  i.  108,  608 

Parabosco,  Girolamo,  his  Diporti,  v. 
60;  its  Introduction,  62 

Paravisini,  Dionysius,  the  first  printer  of 
Greek  in  Italy,  ii.  375 

Parentucelli,  Tommaso.    (See  Nicholas 

V"). 

Parhasius,  Janus,  a  member  of  the  Ro- 
man Academy,  ii.  361  ;  professor  in 
the  Sapienza  at  Rome,  426 

Parisio,  Gianpaolo.  (See  Parhasius 
Janus.) 

Parlamenti,  name  of  the  popular  assem- 
blies in  Italian  cities,  i.  35,  57 

—  the  Parlamento  at   Florence  under 
the  Medici,  229,  526 

Parma,  sold  by  Obizzo  d'Este,  i.  134 ; 
pageant  got  up  by  the  students  at  the 
election  of  Andrea  di  Sicilia  to  a  pro- 
fessorship, iv.  315 

—  the  Teatro  Farnese  (by  Aleotti),  v. 
144 

Parmegianino  ( Mazzola  Francesco ), 
story  of  him  at  the  Sack  of  Rome,  ii. 
16;  the  follower  of  Correggio,  iii. 

495 
Parte  Guelfa,  in  Italian  cities,  i.   35  ; 

at  Florence,  70  note  i 
Party  strife,  effects  of,  in  Italy,  i.  199, 

206,  207,  584 

Paruta,  the  Venetian  historian,  i.  233 
Passavanti,  Jacopo,   his  Specchio  della 

vera  Penitenza^  iv.  131,  v.  270 
Paterini,  the,  an  heretical  sect,  i.  9,  iv. 

109,  279 
Patria,  Machiavelli's  use  of  the  term,  v. 

435.  436 

Patrician,  title  of  dignity  in  Italian 
cities,  i.  35 

Patrini,  Giuseppe,  engraver  of  a  por- 
trait of  Aretino,  v.  423 

Paul  II.,  becomes  Pope,  i.  383  ;  his  love 
of  show,  383 ;  his  services  to  art. 
384,  384  note  i  ;  his  persecution  of 


Paul  II.  (Continued).. 

the  Roman  Platonists,  385,  it  359, 
362,  511 ;  claimed  descent  from  the 
Ahenobarbi,  ii.  31  ;  his  destruction 
of  ancient  monuments  at  Rome,  430; 
his  death,  i.  387 

Paul  III.,  i.  297,  iiL  438;  his  monu- 
ment in  St.  Peter's,  i.  417  note  2,  iii. 
108  ;  a  member  of  the  Roman  Acad- 
emy, ii.  361;  advances  Sadoleto, 
Bembo,  and  Aleander  to  the  Cardi- 
nalate,  ii.  402,  416,  424;  his  patron- 
age of  scholars  while  Cardinal,  404, 
498,  500,  504;  employs  Michelan- 
gelo to  paint  the  Last  Judgment,  iii. 
422;  his  character,  422,  438,  472, 
473,  note  i 

Pavia,  becomes  the  capital  of  the  Lom- 
bards, i.  48,  49 

—  the  Cathedral  (by  Rocchi),  iii.  82; 
shrine  of  S.  Augustine,  123:  theCer- 
tosa,  42,   165  ;  the  fa9ade  character- 
istic of  the  first  period  of  Renaissance 
architecture,  72 

—  University,  the,  eclip>ed  by  the  School 
of  Bologna,  i.  62  ;  raised  10  eminence 
by  Gian  Galeazzo,  142,  ii.  118;  staff 
of  the  University  in  1400,  ii.  120; 
pay  of  professors  there,  1 22 

Pazzi,  Alessandro  de',  his  Discourse  on 
the  Florentine  Constitution,  i.  197 
note  i,  203  note  i  :  Piero  de',  called 
to  study  by  Niccol6  de  Niccoli,  ii. 

41 
Pazzi  Conspiracy,  the,  i.  168,  396,  398, 

466,  505,  ii.  287,   iv.   443,  447,  v. 

118 
Pedantesco,   name  given   to  a  kind  of 

pseudo-Maccaronic    verse,    v.    328 ; 

specimen  from  Scrofa,  329 
Pelacane,  Biagio,   master  of  Vittorino 

da  Feltre  in  mathematics,  ii.  289 
Pelavicini,    the,   become  feudatories  of 

the  See  of  Parma,  i.  57  note  I ;  over- 

thrown  by  the  Visconti,  145 
Pellegrini,  the,  an  Academy  at  Venice, 

v.  90,  272 

Penni,    Francesco,    the  scholar  of  Ra- 
phael, iiL  490 
Pepoli,    Romeo,  his  rise  to  power  a 

Bologna,  i.  114,  116 
Peregrinus,  Bononiensis,  an  early  pnr 

er  at  Venice,  ii.  376 


6:6 


INDEX. 


Perino,  a  Milanese,  carved  the  tomb 
of  Mastino  II.  della  Scala,  iii.  124 
note  I 

Perino  del  Vaga,  the  scholar  of  Raphael, 
iii.  490 

Perotti,  Niccol6,  a  pupil  of  Vittorino 
da  Feltre,  i.  177  ;  author  of  the  Cor- 
nucopia, 1 79  ;  translates  Polybius,  ii. 
228  ;  takes  part  in  the  quarrel  of  Pog- 
gio  and  Valla,  240,  241  :  Pirro,  his 
preface  to  his  uncle's  Cornucopia,  i. 
179 

Perotto,  murder  of,  by  Cesare  Borgia, 
i.  426 

Perrucci,  Antonelli,  execution  of,  by 
Ferdinand  of  Aragon,  i.  571  note  3 

Perugia,  seized  by  Gian  Galeazzo,  i. 
148  ;  generally  Guelf,  194  ;  excitable 
and  emotional  character  of  the  people 
of  Perugia,  iii.  221  ;  peculiar  position 
of  Perugia  in  Italian  art  and  litera- 
ture, v.  498 ;  standards  of  the  relig- 
ious confraternities  preserved  at  Peru- 
gia, iv.  283  note  \ 

—  S.  Bernardino,  its  fa9ade,  iii.  79  note 
I,  150:  S.   Domencio,  monument  of 
Benedict   XL,    115:    S.    Pietro   de' 
Cassinensi,   tarsia   work,  78  note  2 ; 
Mino  da  Fiesole's  altar  in  the  Bagli- 
oni  Chapel,  158  note  i 

—  the  Sala  del  Cambio,  tarsia  work  de- 
signed  by  Perugino,   iii.    78  note  2 ; 
Perugino's  frescoes,  210,  295,  296 

—  High  School,   the,  founded  by  Cle- 
ment V.,  ii.   117 

Perugino  (Pietro  Vannucci),  i.  325,  v. 
498 ;  his  arabesques  at  Perugia,  ii. 
440;  his  designs  for  tarsia  work 
there,  in  the  Sala  del  Cambio,  iii.  78 
note  2  ;  his  frescoes  in  the  Sala,  210, 
295 ;  Michelangelo's  criticism  of 
him,  296,  268  note  i,  300,  386  note 
2  ;  character  of  his  genius,  294 ; 
his  artistic  development  impaired  by 
his  commercial  character,  296,  298, 
299 ;  the  problem  of  his  personal 
character,  297,  298  (cp.  i.  170  note 
i);  competes  for  the  decoration  of  the 
Stanze  of  the  Vatican,  300;  his* in- 
fluence upon  Italian  art,  300,  303  ;  his 
adherence  to  the  older  manner  of 
painting,  303,  365 

Peruzzi,  the,  at  Florence,  i.  238 ;  their 


Peruzzi,  the  (Continued). 
loan  to  Edward  III.,  257  ;  their  bank- 
ruptcy, 258 

Peruzzi,  Baldassare,  church  built  by 
him  at  Carpi,  ii.  374  ;  architect  of  the 
Villa  Farnesina  at  Rome,  iii.  83,  84  ; 
his  work  at  S.  Peter's,  91  ;  how  far 
influenced  by  Sodoma  in  painting, 
501  ;  employed  as  scene-painter  at 
the  representation  of  the  Calandra  in 
the  Vatican,  v.  143,  146 

Pescara,  Marquis  of.  (See  D'Avalos, 
Ferrante  Francesco.) 

Peselli,  the,  Florentine  painters,  intro- 
duced new  methods  of  colouring,  iii. 
225 

Petrarch,  his  love  of  antique  culture,  i. 
II,  ii.  13;  ignorant  of  Greek,  i.  20, 
ii.  74,  75,  90 ;  his  autobiographical 
tracts,  ii.  36,  iv.  91,  123;  present  at 
the  marriage  of  the  Duke  of  Clarence, 
i.  138;  his  remark  on  Florentine  in- 
telligence, 250 ;  his  denunciations  of 
Papal  profligacy,  457 ;  his  conception 
of  self-culture,  ii.  4;  belongs  less 
than  Dante  to  the  middle  ages,  13, 
iv.  91,  140,  v.  2 ;  Dante  and  Pe- 
trarch compared,  ii.  70,  iv.  85-89,  90 ; 
greatness  of  his  services  to  culture,  ii. 
71,  86 ;  his  love  of  Cicero  and  Virgil, 
73,  76 ;  his  liberal  spirit,  75,  78,  iv. 
87  (cp.  v.  504)  ;  his  judgments  of 
poetry  and  oratory,  ii.  76,  77,450; 
his  vanity  and  inconsistency  of  con- 
duct, 79-84 ;  depreciated  Dante,  82  ; 
his  relations  to  Rienzi,  83,  147-149 ; 
his  philosophical  creed,  84-86,  v. 
450 ;  despaired  of  getting  Greek 
learning  from  Constantinople,  ii.  92 
note  i,  142  note  I ;  his  invective 
against  the  copyists,  129  ;  began  the 
search  for  MSS.  of  the  classics,  132 
(cp.  530) ;  his  study  of  the  ruins  of 
Rome,  149 ;  his  description  oT  Rome 
in  desolation,  154;  conceives  the 
idea  of  forming  a  public  library,  166; 
his  friendship  with  Robert  of  Anjou, 
252,  iv.  1 20  note  \  ;  his  denunciation 
of  the  astrologers,  ii.  75,  336 ;  Aldo 
Manusio's  Italic  types  imitated  from 
his  handwriting,  381 ;  began  the  fash- 
ion of  Ciceronian  letter-writing,  530  ; 
his  description  of  death  illustrated  by 


INDEX. 


617 


Petrarch  (Continued). 
frescoes  in  the  Campo  Santo,  Pisa, 
iii.  202  ;  his  mention  of  Simone  Mar- 
tini and  Giotto,  217  note  i  ;  his  ac- 
count of  the  Sicilian  poets,  iv.  21 ; 
attained  the  conception  of  Italy  as  a 
whole,  87;  crowned  in  the  Capitol, 
88;  his  language  free  from  dialect, 
89  ;  his  treatment  of  love,  89 ;  con- 
flict in  his  mind  between  his  love  of 
Laura  and  his  religious  feelings,  90 ; 
^Wre  nature  of  his  passion  for  Laura, 
^92-94;  brings  the  feeling  of  love 
back  from  mysticism  to  experience. 
94,  v.  515 ;  his  artistic  treatment  of 
his  subject-matter^iv.  95 ;  had  no 
strong  objective  faculty,  96 ;  his 
power  of  self-portraiture,  97 ;  the 
dialogue  on  the  Destruction  of  Ces- 
ena,  falsely  attributed  to  him,  v.  117 
note  I 

Petrarchistic  School  in  Italian  literature, 
Petrarchists  of  the  trecento,  iv.  159  ; 
the  revival  under  Bembo  and  the 
purists,  165  ;  injurious  effects  of  the 
imitation  of  Petrarch,  v.  249-251, 
273  ;  inattention  shown  by  the  Pe- 
trarchists to  the  calamities  of  Italy, 
281 
Petrucci,  the,  at  Siena,  supported  by 

the  people,  i.  87 

—  Antonio,  invites  Filelfo  to  Siena,  ii. 
276  :  Cardinal,  conspiracy  of,  i.  436  ; 
his  patronage  of  scholars  at  Rome,  ii. 
404  :  Pandolfo,  his  rise  to  power  at 
Siena,  1.114,209;  his  murder  of  Bor- 
ghese,  121  note  i 

Philosophy,  at  the  commencement  of 
the  Renaissance  did  not  form  a  separ- 
ate branch  of  study,  v.  458 ;  mater- 
ialism in  the  Lombard  Universities 
due  to  physical  studies,  458 
Philosophy,  Italian :  Italian  philosophy 
unduly  neglected  in  the  history  of 
modern  thought,  v.  448  ;  three  stages 
of  thought  in  the  passage  through  Re- 
naissance to  modern  science,  448, 
457 ;  disengagement  of  the  reason 
from  authority  due  to  Italian  thinkers, 
448,  449,  485-487,  520;  Cicero  and 
Seneca  used  as  models  by  the  humanis- 
tic ethicists,  451 ;  value  of  the  labours 
of  the  Florentine  Platonists,  452-454  ; 


Philosophy,  Italian  (Continued) 
problems  of  life  posed  by  ethical 
rhetoricians,  454-457;  Valla's  De 
Voluptate,  455  ;  rapid  growth  of  he- 
terodox  opinions  on  immortality  dur- 
ing the  Renaissance,  470;  influence 
of  Pomponazzi  on  Italian  thought, 
479,  520 

Piacenza,  destruction  of,  by  the  Milan- 
ese, i.  152,  162  note  i,  212 
—  University,  the;  established  by  Inno- 
cent IV.,  ii.  117 

Piagnoni,  name  of  the  followers  of  Sa- 
vonarola  at  Florence,  i.  290,  529,  ii. 
35.5,  »i.  252 
Piccinino,  Jacopo,  murdered  by  F'erdi- 

nand  of  Aragon,  i.  113  note  i,  571 
Piccinino,  Nicolo,  i.  161,  ii.  264 
Piccolomini,  his  La  Ka/aella  quoted  for 
Italian  ideas  of  honour  in  women,  i. 
485  (cp.  ii.  37) 
Piccolomini,  ^Eneas  Sylvius.     (See  Pins 

II.) 

Pico.  (See  Mirandola.) 
Piero  di  Cosimo,  his  itudies  in  natural 
history,  iii.  226 ;  his  eccentricity,  256 : 
his  romantic  treatment  of  classical 
mythology,  256  ;  his  art  as  illustrating 
the  poetry  of  Boiardo,  iv.  463 ;  the 
Triumph  of  Death  designed  by  him, 
393-395,  v.  114 

Piero  della  Francesca,  his  fresco  of  the 
Resurrection  at  Borgo  San  Sepolcro, 
Hi.  234 ;  his  Dream  of  Constantine 
at  Arezzo,  235  ;  his  portraits  of  Sigis- 
mondo  Pandolfo  Malatesta  and  Fred- 
erick of  Urbino.  235,  275  note  I 
Piero  da  Noceto,  private  secretary  of 

Nicholas  V.,  ii.  229 
Piero  delle  Vigne,  his  Perocche  Amore 

an  early  instance  of  a  sonnet,  iv.  25 
Pilatus,    Leontius,    Boccaccio's    Greek 

master,  ii.  91 

Pinturicchio,  Bernardo,  i.  325,  384  note 
i ;  competes  for  the  decoration  of  the 
Stanze  of  the  Vatican,  iii.  3co ;  his 
frescoes  in  the  Cathedral  Library  at 
Siena,  302 ;  his  affectation,  302,  364 
note  I 

Pio  [Pia],  Alberto,  the  patron  of  Aldo 
Manuzio,  ii.  374;  a  member  of  the 
Aldine  Academy,  387 ;  ambassador 
from  France  at  Rome,  405  :  Alda, 


6x8 


INDEX. 


Pio  [Pia],  Alberto  (Continued). 

mother  of  Veronica  Gaxnbara,  v.  288  : 

Lionello,  ii.  374 
Pippin,  named   Patrician  of  Rome,  L 

50 

Pirkheimer,  Willibad,  the  friend  of  Gian 
Francesco  Pico,  ii.  423 

Pisa,  not  eminent  for  literary  talent,  i. 
79 ;  sale  of,  to  Gian  Galeazzo,  148 ; 
its  cruel  treatment  by  Florence,  212, 
237,  342,  560,  ii.  165  ;  popular  out- 
break at  the  entry  of  Charles  VIII., 

343.  56i 

—  Campo  Santo,  the,  story  of  the  sar- 
cophagus there,  which  influenced  the 
genius  of  Niccola   Pisano,  iii.    106  ; 
built  by  Giovanni  Pisano,   1 10 ;  the 
frescoes,  200-204,  2O9»  2I9,  242  (cp. 
iv.  261  note  2) :  S.  Caterina,  Traini's 
Triumph   of  S.    Thomas,    iii.    207 ; 
Siinone  Martini's  altarpiece,  217  note 
2:  the  Cathedral,  iii.  49:   S.   Fran- 
cesco, Taddeo  di  Bartolo's   Visit  of 
the  Apostles  to  the  Virgin,  218  :  S. 
Maria  della  Spina  (Spina  Chapel),  re- 
built by  Giovanni  Pisano,  1 10 

—  University,  the,  it  117,  v.  497  ;  trans- 
fer of  the  High  School  from  Florence 
thither,  ii.  122 

Pisanello,  medal  struck  by  him  in  hon- 
our of  Vittorino  da  Feltre,  i.  178 

Pisani,  the  (Giovanni  and  Niccola),  their 
bas-reliefs  at  Orvieto,  iii.  56 ;  Vasari's 
statement  that  they  aided  in  the  fajade 
of  Orvieto  discussed,  1 16 

—  Giovanni,  contrast  of  his  work  with 
that  of  his  father,  Niccola,  iii.   no, 
177;  his  architectural  labours,   no; 
his  pulpit  in  S.  Andrea,  Pistoja,  1 1 1- 
1 14 ;   his  allegorical   figure   of  Pisa, 
114;  his  tomb  of  Benedict  XI.  in  S. 
Domenico,  Perugia,  115  ;  Niccola,  in- 
dividuality of  his  genius,  ii.  5  ;  his  in- 
fluence on  sculpture,  iii.  101,  177  ;  the 
legend  of  his  life,  how  far  trustworthy, 
102  ;  his  first  work  as  a  sculptor,  the 
Deposition  from  the  Cross,  104 ;  story 
of  his  genius  having  been  aroused  by 
the   study   of  a   sarcophagus  in  the 
Campo  Santo,  106  ;  the  sculptures  of 
the  Pisan  pulpit,   107,   109  (see  also 
Appendix  i. ) ;  degree  in  which  he  was 
indebted  to  ancient  art,  108,  lie,  v. 


Pisani,  Giovanni  (Continued). 

506 ;  contrast  of  his  work  with  that 
of  his  son,  Giovanni,  no,  17 

—  Ugolino,  his  Latin  play,  Philogenia, 
v.  no 

Pistoja,  contrast  of  its  history  with  that 
of  Lucca,  i.  194 

—  S.  Andrea,  Giovanni  Pisano' s  pulpit, 
iii.   111-114;    the  Duomo,    Cino  da 
Pistoja's   monument,  iv.  66  note   I  ; 
Church  of  the  Umilta  (by  Vitoni),  iii. 

83 

—  Ospedale  del  Ceppo,  the,  its  frieze, 
by  the  Robbian  School,  iii.  150  note  i 

Pitigliano,  Count,  general  of  Alfonso 
II.  of  Naples,  i.  552 

Pitti,  Jacopo,  his  history  of  Florence,  i. 
278,  279;  his  democratic  spirit,  280, 
288,  299  note  2 ;  his  panegyric  of 
Piero  Soderini,  289,  iii.  391 ;  ascribes 
the  downfall  of  Florence  to  the  Otti- 
tnati,  i.  288;  his  style,  291  ;  his  ac- 
count of  Guicciardini,  299,  299  note 
I  (cp.  iv.  515);  on  the  preaching  of 
Frate  Francesco,  621  ;  the  Life  of 
Giacomini  cited  for  Giacomini's  share 
in  Machiavelli's  plan  for  a  militia,  313 
note  i 

—  Luca,  his  conspiracy  against  Piero  de' 
Medici,  ii.  314 

Pius  II.,  in  the  service  of  the  Emperor 
before  his  election,  ii.  190;  his  repu- 
tation as  an  orator,  191 ;  his  Latin 
correspondence,  532 ;  his  letter  to  his 
nephew,  42  note  i  ;  contrast  between 
his  life  before  and  after  his  election 
to  the  Papacy,  i.  380,  ii.  358  ;  his 
saying  on  the  celibacy  of  the  clergy,  L 
459 ;  his  canonisations  and  love  of 
reliques,  461  ;  pardons  the  people  of 
Arpino  as  fellow-citizens  of  Cicero,  ii, 
30  ;  his  epigram  on  the  ruins  of  Rome, 
151  ;  endeavours  to  protect  the  Ro- 
man monuments,  429  ;  founds  the  Col- 
lege of  Abbreviators,  358 ;  his  saying 
upon  Tommaso  Parentucelli  (Nicholas 
V.),  224;  his  Commentaries  cited  for 
his  conversations  with  Frederick  Duke 
of  Urbino,  i.  178  note  2  ;  for  Gian 
Galeazzo's  saying  on  Salutato,  ii.  105 
note  \  ;  his  testimony  in  another  work 
to  Beccadelli's  reputation  as  a  stylist, 
257  note  i 


INDEX. 


619 


Pius  III.,  i.  433 

Pius  VI.,  his  destruction  of  the  Chapel 
in  the  Vatican  painted  by  Mantegna, 
iii.  277 

Plagiarism,  commonness  of,  in  the  fif- 
teenth century,  iv.  194  note  \ 

Platina,  his  account  of  Paul  II. 's  perse- 
cution of  the  Humanists,  i.  384  note 
I,  386,  387,  ii.  36,  511  ;  a  member  of 
the  Roman  Academy,  ii.  361 

Plato,  Aldine  edition  of,  ii.  16,  379; 
impulse  given  by  Gemistos  to  Platonic 
studies,  207 ;  quarrel  of  the  Platonists 
and  the  Aristotelians,  208,  244,  247, 
394,  v.  454 ;  the  study  of  Plato  pre- 
pared the  way  for  rationalism,  ii.  209, 
325,  iv.  447  ;  influence  of  Plato  at  the 
Renaissance,  ii.  323 ;  Plato  not  fully 
comprehended  by  the  thinkers  of  the 
Renaissance,  327,  v.  452 ;  celebra- 
tions of  his  birthday  by  the  Florentine 
Academy,  ii.  328  ;  the  Florentine  Pla- 
tonists, iv.  452.  (See  also  Ficino  and 
Pico  Mirandola.) 

Plautus,  influence  of,  on  the  Italian  play- 
wrights, v.  122,  136,  148,  161,  181  ; 
representations  of  Plautus  in  the  ori- 
ginal at  Rome,  138,  145 ;  at  Ferrara, 
iv.  499,  v.  139-142,  145  ;  early  trans- 
lations of  Plautus,  forming  the  begin- 
nings of  Italian  comedy,  v.  140 

Plethon,  Gemistos,  settles  at  Mistra,  ii. 
199 ;  his  dream  of  a  neo-pagan  reli- 
gion, 200 ;  his  system  of  philosophy, 
201-204  ;  attends  the  Council  of  Flo- 
rence, 205  ;  his  reception  by  the  Flo- 
rentines, 206 ;  impulse  given  by  him 
to  Platonic  studies  in  Italy,  207,  328, 
v.  452  ;  his  treatises  on  Fate,  and  on 
the  differences  between  Plato  and 
Aristotle,  ii.  208 ;  his  controversy  with 
Gennadios,  209  ;  his  remains  brought 
from  Greece  by  Sigismondo  Pandolfo 
Malatesta,  i.  173,  461,  ii.  34,  209 
Plutarch,  effect  of  the  study  of  Plutarch 
in  Italy,  i.  165  note  2,  464;  Life  of 
Cleomenes  quoted,  235  note  2 
Podesta,  the  place  and  function  of  this 
magistrate,  i.  35,  71,  84;  meaning 
of  the  word,  67 ;  sometimes  became 
tyrants,  112 

Poetry,  opposition  of  the  medieval 
Church  to,  iv.  81 


Poggio,correspondswithLionellod'Este, 
i.  173 ;  his  relations  to  Frederick  of 
Urbino,  179  ;  account  of  him  by  Ves- 
pasiano,  275 ;  attached  to  the  Papal 
Court,  459,  ii.  218,  230;  a  scholar  of 
Giovanni  da  Ravenna,  ii.  100,  230; 
his  funeral  oration  on  Niccoli  de' 
Niccoli  quoted  for  the  society  founded 
by  Marsigli,  102  ;  patronised  by  Salu- 
tato,  106;  learns  Greek  of  Chryso- 
loras,  no,  230;  his  copying  and  side 
of  MSS.,  131  ;  his  discoveries  of 
MSS.,  i.  21,  ii.  134-139;  his  zeal 
and  unscrupulousness  in  the  quest,  ii. 
138  ;  his  translations  of  Diodorus  Si- 
culus  and  Xenophon,  228,  237,  243 ; 
his  debt  to  Niccol6  de'  Niccoli,  230 
note  i  ;  description  contained  in  one 
of  his  letters  of  Jerome  of  Prague  be- 
fore the  Council  of  Constance,  231, 
535  ;  his  pictures  of  foreign  manners, 
231 ;  varied  character  of  his  talents, 
232;  his  attacks  on  the  clergy,  233- 
237 ;  terror  caused  by  his  invec- 
tives, 237  (cp.  513) ;  his  quarrel  with 
Filelfo,  238-240:  with  Guarino  and 
with  Valla,  240-242,  263,  301 ;  his 
fight  with  Trapezuntius,  243 ;  his 
criticism  of  Beccadelli's  Hermaphro- 
ditus,  255  ;  his  scandalous  account  of 
Filelfo' s  marriage,  269  note  i;  his 
marriage  and  life  as  a  citizen  of  Flo- 
rence, 245  ;  the  De  Nobilitate,  i.  186 
note  i;  the  History  of  Florence,  81, 
274:  its  style  and  value,  275;  the 
description  of  the  ruins  of  Rome  (the 
first  part  of  the  De  Varietatt  For- 
tune), ii.  152-154,  231,  429.  53° 

Pole,  Cardinal,  his  friendship  with  Fla- 
minio  and  Vittoria  Colonna,  ii.  498, 
502,  v.  292 

Polentani,  the,  of  Ravenna,  i.  Ill,  375 

Polenta,  Obizzo  da,  his  murder  of  his 
brother,  i.  119  note  2:  Ostasio  da, 
his  murder  of  his  brother,  1 19  note  2 

Polidoro  da  Caravaggio,  the  scholar  of 
Raphael,  iii.  49° 

Polissena,    Countess  of  Montalto,  n 
murder,  i.  119  note  2 

Politid,  the,  an  Academy  at  Bologna,  lu 
366  ,  , . 

Poliziano,  Angelo,  assassination  of 
father,  L  170  note  I ;  present  at  the 


620 


INDEX. 


Poliziano,  Angelo  (Continued). 
murder  of  Giuliano  de'  Medici,  265 
note  i ;  his  letter  to  Antiquari,  con- 
taining an  account  of  Lorenzo's  last 
interview  with  Savonarola,  523  note 

x>  "•  355  (CP-  533)  >  w^e  sc°Pe  of  his 
genius,  li.  10,  iv.  399;  his  lectures  on 
the  Pandects,  ii.  124;  learnt  Greek 
from  Callistus,  248,  346  j  one  of  the 
circle  gathered  round  Lorenzo  de' 
Medici,  322,  323;  his  description  of 
Pico  della  Mirandola,  329 ;  his  wooing 
of  Alessandra  Scala,  344 ;  brought 
into  fame  by  his  Latin  version  of  part 
of  Homer,  ii.  346,  iv.  401,  411 ;  his 
lectures  at  Florence,  i.  171 ;  their 
enormous  success,  ii.  350,  464 ;  popu- 
larity of  Poliziano,  353  ;  his  relations 
to  the  Medicean  family,  354;  his 
want  of  self-respect,  354 ;  Giovio's 
story  of  his  death,  348  note  2,  354 
note  \  •  epitaph  placed  upon  his  tomb, 
357  ;  his  indebtedness  to  Sacchetti, 
iv.  155;  his  eulogy  of  Alberti,  214; 
one  of  his  letters  cited  for  the  Macca- 
ronic  Italian  used  by  scholars,  237  ; 
represents  the  servility  of  his  age  in 
literature,  404 ;  ideal  of  life  expressed 
in  his  works,  423 ;  erroneous  ascrip- 
tion of  the  Morgante  to  him,  455  note 
3,  v.  316  note  i  ;  his  position  as 'an 
Italian  poet,  ii.  347,  iv.  399-401  ; 
insincerity  of  emotion  in  his  Italian 
poems,  iv.  423;  popularity  of  his 
Italian  poems,  409  note  2 ;  injury 
caused  to  his  poems  by  the  defects  of 
his  temperament,  399  ;  his  mastery  of 
metre,  401-403,  v.  212,  230;  sur- 
passed by  Ariosto,  v.  43  ;  the  Stanze, 
iv.  401,  403,  406-409,  421 ;  their  im- 
portance in  Italian  literature,  403 ; 
illustrations  of  the  Stanze  by  con- 
temporary works  of  art,  408  ;  trans- 
lation of  passages,  408,  420 ;  the 
Orfeo,  iv.  357,  409,  v.  roS,  221 ;  ex- 
cellent choice  of  its  subject,  iv.  410 ; 
occasion  of  its  being  written,  411  ;  its 
greatness  lyrical,  not  dramatical,  412- 
414  ;  translation  of  the  Chorus  ofthe 
Maenads,  414;  popular  redaction  of 
the  Orfeo,  409  note  2 ;  the  Orfeo 
cited  for  the  tendency  of  the  Italians 
to  unnatural  passions,  477  note  i  ;  his 


Poliziano,  Angelo  (Continued). 

Canzonet,  La  pastorella  si  leva  per 
tempo,  iv.  268  note  3 ;  a  letter  of  his 
to  Lorenzo  cited  for  the  antiquity  of 
the  Rispetti  and  the  cultivation  of 
popular  poetry  in  the  Medicean  circle, 
269,  416  note  i  ;  translation  of  a  Bal- 
lata,  378  ;  his  Rispetti,  &c.,  416; 
more  artificial  in  character  than  the 
popular  poetry,  417 ;  the  Rispetti 
continuati,  419  ;  illustrations  of  them 
from  contemporary  works  of  art,  419 ; 
the  La  brunettina  mia,  La  Bella 
Simonetta,  and  Monti,  valli,  antri  e 
colli,  420-422 ;  part  of  La  Bella 
Simonetta  translated,  420 ;  the  Essay 
on  the  Pazzi  Conspiracy,  i.  265  note 
i ;  the  Miscellanies,  ii.  352 ;  the 
Greek  and  Latin  poetry,  348 ;  ori- 
ginal character  of  the  Latin  poetry, 
348,  356,  453-458,  463 ;  the  Lament 
for  Lorenzo,  355,  356 ;  analysis  of 
the  Nutricia,  453-458 ;  the  Eulogy 
on  Lorenzo,  457,  iv.  369 ;  Gyraldus' 
criticism  of  the  Sylvee,  ii.  459;  the 
Rusticus,  459,  iv.  423,  v.  234 ;  the 
Manto,  ii.  460-462 ;  the  Ambra,  463 
(prose  translations  of  passages  from 
the  Latin  poems  will  be  found  454- 
463) ;  the  minor  poems,  464 ;  Greek 
epigram  sent  to  Guidobaldo,  Duke  of 
Urbino,  i.  182  note  \  ;  translation  of 
Greek  hexameters,  ii.  24 ;  the  epigram 
on  Pico  when  he  attacked  the  astrolo- 
gers, 337  note  i ;  the  epigram  on  the 
first  Greek  printers,  375  note  2 ;  the 
Sapphics  to  Innocent  VIII.,  495;  the 
verses  on  Filippo  Lippi,  iii.  247  ;  his 
Latin  correspondence,  ii.  532 

Pollajuolo,  Antonio  del,  his  choice  of 
subjects  of  a  passionate  character,  iii. 
146;  his  monument  of  Sixtus  IV., 
147;  his  experiments  in  colour,  225  ; 
over  prominence  of  anatomy  in  his 
works,  232  ;  his  Hercules,  illustrating 
his  treatment  of  the  antique,  291 ; 
architect  of  the  Belvedere  of  the  Vat- 
ican, i.  384  note  i  ;  his  statue  of  In- 
nocent VIII.,  415,  iii.  147;  his  por- 
trait of  Poggio,  ii.  246 ;  his  work  as 
a  bronze  founder,  iii.  78  note  I :  Picro 
del,  aids  his  brother,  Antonio,  Hi.  147, 
225 


INDEX. 


621 


Polybius,  studied  by  Machiavelli,  v.  434 
note  i 

Pomponazzi,  Pietro,  studies  at  Padua, 
v.  458,  459 ;  moves  from  Padua  to 
Ferrara,  and  finally  to  Bologna,  460 ; 
his  Treatise  on  the  Immortality  of  the 
Soul  burnt  in  public  at  Venice,  460  ; 
controversy  raised  by  that  work,  461, 
479 ;  Pomponazzi  aimed  at  stating 
the  doctrines  of  Aristotle  as  against 
the  Thomists  and  Averrhoists,  462 ; 
adopted  the  views  of  Alexander  of 
Aphrodisias,  459,  472 ;  his  profession 
of  faith,  476,  477,  480 ;  powerful 
personality  shown  by  his  writings,  461 ; 
his  positivism,  478;  akin  in  this  re- 
spect to  Machiavelli,  485-487  ;  his  in- 
fluence on  Italian  thought,  479;  his 
materialistic  philosophy,  i.  456,  ii. 
124,  394  (cp.  477),  iv.  447,  v.  312, 
314,  518;  the  De  Immortalitate  Am- 
ma,  ii.  410,  v.  460;  Pomponazzi'sdoc-  \ 
trine  of  the  soul's  materiality  there  | 
•  stated,  v.  472-476,  520  ;  the  De  In- 
cantationibus,  461  ;  rejects  demons 
and  miracles  in  this  work,  476 ;  ac- 
knowledges astral  influence,  477  ;  ex- 
presses the  opinion  that  Christianity 
is  doomed  to  decline,  iv.  448  note  i, 
v.  477 ;  the  Apologia  and  Defen- 
sorium,  v.  461 ;  the  De  Fato,  461, 
477 ;  description  of  the  philosopher 
contained  there,  478 

Pontano  (Jovianus  Pontanus),  assassina- 
tion of  his  father,  i.  170  note  \  ;  his 
relation  to  Frederick  of  Urbino,  179 ; 
tutor  to  Piero  de'  Pazzi,  ii.  41;  a 
member  of  the  Roman  Academy,  361  ; 
founder  of  the  Neapolitan  Academy, 
363,  v.  198,  272;  his  employment  by 
the  Kings  of  Naples,  ii.  363  ;  his  ora- 
tion to  Charles  VIII.,  363;  portrait 
of  him  in  the  Church  of  Monte  Oli- 
veto  at  Naples,  365,  iii.  164,  v.  198; 
value  of  his  works,  ii.  364,  v.  220 ; 
the  De  Immanitate,  cited,  i.  139  note 
I,  481  note  2,  569,  569  note  I,  571 
note  i  ;  the  De  Liberalitate,  cited, 
569  note  I  ;  his  merits  as  a  writer  of 
Latin  verse,  ii.  364,  465,  v.  235  ;  the 
De  Stellis,  ii.  466-468,  v.  220,  235  ; 
the  De  Hortis  Hesperiditm,  v.  220, 
235  ;  his  Odes  to  the  Saints,  iv.  302 ; 


Pontano  (Jovianus  Pontanus)  (Con f if). 
Neapolitan  colouring  of  his  poems,  ii. 
364,  v.  213,  235  :  their  pictures  of 
Neapolitan  life,  v.  217  ;  their  sensual 
but  unaffected  character,  214-217; 
Pontano's  love  of  personification,  218; 
translation  (in  prose)  of  the  lines  per- 
sonifying Elegy,  219 

Pontelli,  Baccio,  architect  of  the  Hospi- 
tal of  Santo  Spirito  at  Rome,  i.  384 
note  i ;  employed  as  architect  upon 
the  Ducal  Palace,  Urbino,  iii.  162 
note  i 

Pontius,  Paulus,  his  monument  of  Al- 
berto Pio,  ii.  375 

Pontormo,  Jacopo,  his  portraits  of  Cosi- 
mo  and  Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  iii.  498  ; 
his  portrait  of  Ippolito  de'  Medici,  ii. 
27  ;  decorates  the  cars  for  the  Pa- 
geant of  the  Golden  Age,  iv.  397 

Ponzoni  family,    the,   of   Cremona,    i. 

US 

Popolo,  meaning  of  the  word,  55,  56, 
71,  iv.  7,  8 ;  increase  in  the  power  of 
the  Popolo,  i.  6 1 ;  Guicciardini's  use 
of  the  word,  306  note  i 

Porcari,  Stefano,  his  attempt  on  Nicho- 
las V.,  i.  376,  377.  386;  influenced 
by  the  history  of  Rienzi,  376,  ii.  147 

Porcello,  Giannantonio,  patronised  by 
Alfonso  the  Magnanimous,  ii.  264, 

3°3 

Pordenone,  111.  371 

Porta,  Giacomo  della,  his  work  at  S. 
Peter's,  iii.  93 :  Guglielmo  della,  his 
monument  of  Paul  IV.,  i.  371,  iil 
108 

Portogallo,  Cardinal  di,  his  monument 
in  S.  Miniato,  iii.  153  ;  Vespasiano's 
testimony  to  his  virtues,  154 

Portuguese,  the,  round  the  Cape,  i.  15 

Porzio,  Simone,  the  disciple  of  Pompo- 
nazzi, v.  479 ;  story  of  his  lecturing 
at  Pisa,  479  ;  his  belief  as  to  the  soul, 

479 

Pratiche,  name  of  an  extraordinary 
Council  in  some  Italian  Communes, 

Pratof  Sack  of,  iii.  308  note  2,  393  =  the 
Duomo,  Mino's  pulpit,  158  note  I 
Filippo  Lippi's  frescoes    245.  J  5 
(cp.   iv.   422) ;  chapel  of  the   Sacra 
Cintola,  iii.  79 


622 


INDEX. 


Prendilacqua,  his  biography  of  Vittorino 
da  Feltre,  cited,  i.  178  note  I,  ii.  37 

Primaticcio,  his  residence  at  the  Court 
of  France,  iiL  445 

Princes,  effect  of,  upon  Italian  litera- 
ture, iv.  404 

Principi^  the  Lettere  dS,  quoted,  i.  442 

Printers,  the  early,  i.  23  ;  the  first  print- 
ers in  Italy,  ii.  306  note  2,  368-391 ; 
labour  employed  in  printing  the  first 
editions  of  the  classics,  372 

Priors,  name  of  the  chief  magistrates  in 
some  Italian  Communes,  i.  35,  68, 71  ; 
Priors  of  the  Arts  at  Florence,  i.  224 

Professors,  pay  of,  in  the  Italian  Uni- 
versities, ii.  121,  v.  460;  subordinate 
position  of  the  humanist  professors,  ii. 
123  ;  their  system  of  teaching,  124- 
127,  274;  illustrations  of  the  Italian 
professorial  system  at  the  Renais- 
sance from  the  Maccaronic  writers,  v. 

332 

Proven9al  literature,  its  effect  on  me- 
dieval Italy,  iv.  13 

Provence,  extinction  of  heresy  there,  i.  9 

Ptolemaic  System,  superseded  by  the 
Copernican,  i.  15,  1 6 

Pucci,  Antonio,  his  political  poems,  iv. 
163;  his  terza  rima  version  of  Villa- 
ni's  Chronicle,  240 ;  his  celebrity  as  a 
can  tat  ore,  257 

Pulci,  Bernardo,  writer  of  the  sacied 
drama,  Barlaam  e  Josa/at,  iv.  320, 
349  ;  other  works  of  his,  430 :  Luca, 
his  poem  on  Lorenzo  de'  Medici's 
Giostra,  iv.  405 ;  his  share  in  the 
Cirijfo  Calvarteo,  430  :  Luigi,  one  of 
the  circle  gathered  round  Lorenzo  de' 
Medici,  ii.  322,  iv.  440;  his  story  of 
Messer  Goro  and  Pius  II.,  iv.  255; 
his  Beca  da  Dicomano,  382,  v.  224 ; 
his  quarrel  with  Matteo  Franco,  and 
Sonnets,  iv.  431,  455  note  3 :  the 
Morgante  purely  Tuscan,  430,  431  ; 
the  burlesque  element  ready  to  hand, 
440 ;  the  Morgante  written  to  be 
read  in  the  Medicean  circle,  440; 
three  elements  in  the  poem,  441  ;%he 
Morgante  a  rifacimcnto  of  earlier 
poems,  442 ;  its  plot,  443 ;  excel- 
lence of  the  delineations  of  character, 
445,  470  note  i  ;  character  of  Mar- 
gutte,  451:  of  Astarotte,  452-456; 


Pnlci,  Bernardo  (Continued). 

not  a  mere  burlesque,  446 ;  its  pro- 
fanity, how  explained,  446-448 ;  in- 
stances of  Pulci's  humour,  448-450; 
false  ascription  of  part  of  the  Mor- 
gante to  Ficino,  455  note  3  ;  errone- 
ous idea  that  Poliziano  wrote  the  Mor- 
gante, 455  note  3  ;  bourgeois  spirit  of 
the  Morgante  contrasted  with  Boiar- 
do's  Orlando  Innamorato.  456,  v.  8 
(set  Appendix  v.  vol.  iv.,  for  transla- 
tions from  the  Morgante)  :  Monna 
Antonia  (wife  of  Bernardo),  authoress 
of  a  Sacra  Rappresentazione^  iv.  3*20 

Puritanism,  a  reaction  against  the  Re- 
naissance, L  25  ;  its  political  services, 
27  ;  antipathy  of,  to  art,  iii.  24 


QUARREL  of  the  Aristotelians  and 
the  Platonists,  ii.  208,  244.  247, 
394,  v.  454  :  literary  quarrels  at 
the  Renaissance,  ii.  237-245,  264, 
511,  iv.  431  note  I,  451,  v.  89,  285 

Quercia,  Jacopo  della,  his  work  as  a 
sculptor  in  Italian  churches,  iii.  78 
note  i  ;  his  treatment  of  the  story  of 
the  creation  of  Eve,  118  note  2,  130  ; 
his  designs  in  competition  for  the 
gates  of  the  Florentine  Baptistery, 
127  ;  other  works  of  his — the  Fonte 
Gaja,  and  the  monument  of  Ilaria  del 
Carretto,  132,  165 

Quintilian,  discovery  of  a  MSS.  of,  by 
Poggio,  ii.  134-137 

Quirino,  Lauro,  his  stipend  at  Padua, 
it  122 


TT)  ABELAIS,  quoted  for  the  feudal 
£\_  idea  of  honour,  i.  483 

Raffaelle  da  Montelupo,  a  feeble  fol- 
lower of  Michelangelo,  iii.  172 

Raimond  of  Tours,  quoted  to  illustrate 
the  gaiety  of  medieval  Florence,  iv.  50 

Raimondi,  Marc  Antonio,  imprisoned 
for  engraving  a  series  of  obscene  de- 
signs by  Giulio  Romano,  Y.  389 

Raimondo  da  Capua,  the  confessor  of 
S.  Catherine  of  Siena,  iv.  174 

Ramiro  d'Orco,  appointed  governor  of 
the  Romagna  by  -Cesare  Borgia,  i. 
354;  his  end,  355 


INDEX. 


623 


Rangoni,  Count  Guido,  the  patron  of 

Bernardo  Tasso,  v.  297 
Rapallo,  massacre  of,  i.  557 
Raphael,    the   question  entertained    of 
making  him  a  Cardinal,  ii.  403  ;  his 
project  for  the  exploration  of  Rome, 
ii.  419,  436,  iii.  337 ;  his  friendship 
•with  Castiglione,  ii.  421 ;  his  work  in 
the  Loggie  and  Stanze  of  the  Vatican, 
ii.   436,  440,  iii.   108,  333,  v.  229; 
Raphael  the  harmonist  of  classical  anc 
Christian  traditions,  iii.  35,  333  (cp, 
v.  26) ;  woodwork  executed  from  his 
designs  at  Perugia,  iii.  78  note  2  ;  hi: 
mosaics  in  S.  Maria  del  Popolo,  79 
note  2,  334  ;  his  work  as  an  architect, 
83,  330 ;  as  a  sculptor,  329  ;  his  fres- 
coes in  the  Villa  Farnesina,  84,  331, 
334,  iv.  403 ;  the  Galatea,  illustrating 
his   treatment   of  the  antique,  291, 
337  ;  his  work  on  S.  Peter's,  iii.  91  ; 
borrowed  the  figure  of  S.  Paul  in  the 
Cartoon  of  Mars'  /////from  Filippino 
Lippi,  248  ;  the  pupil  of  Perugino, 
300;  his  power  of  assimilation,  301, 
330-332  ;  one  of  the  four  great  paint- 
ers  by  whom   the   Renaissance  was 
fully  expressed,  312 ;    equality,  facil- 
ity, and  fertility  of  his  genius,  328  ; 
comparison  of  his  genius  with  that  of 
Mozart,  328 ;   his  gentleness,    329 ; 
his  indebtedness  to  Fra  Bartolommeo, 
330  ;  influence  of  Michelangelo  on  his 
later  works,  331,  412  ;  his  school  of 
workmen,    332 ;    enormous  mass  of 
his  work,    334 ;    mental  power  dis- 
played by  him,  335,  338,  v.  116;  va- 
riety of  his  genius,  iii.  336  ;  the  Ma- 
donna di  San   Sisto,  337,  380;  his 
humane  spirit  and  avoidance  of  pain- 
ful  subjects,   338 ;   the   woodcuts  of 
the  Hypnerototnachia  erroneously  as- 
cribed  to   him,  iv.  221   note  i ;  the 
scenery  for   a  representation   of  the 
Calandra  at  Rome  painted  by  him, 
v.  147 

Rasiglia,  Pietro,  his  murder  of  Nicoli 
and  Bartolommeo  Tnnci,  i.  122 

Raspanti,  the,  a  faction  at  Perugia,  i. 

122 

Raul,  Sire,  his  Chronicle  of  Milan,  i.  251 
Ravenna,  1.46,  118;  battle  of,  ii.  380, 
iii.  329  ;  tomb  of  Dante,  ii.  410 


Razzi,  his  account  of  the  interview  of 
Savonarola  with  Lorenzo  de'  Medici 
on  his  deathbed,  i.  523  note  i 
Reali  di  Francia,  illustrates  the  little 
influence  of  Boccaccio's  style  on  his 
immediate    successors,    iv.    1-^6;    its 
stylistic  merits,  240  ;  the  most  popu- 
lar of  all  Italian  books,  245,  247  ;  at- 
tributed to  Andrea  da  Barberino,  246 
Realists,  the,  v.  466 
Recanati,  the  Bishop  of,  murder  of,  v. 

297 
Rectors,  or  Rettori,  the  magistrates  in 

some  Italian  cities,  i.  35,  68 
Reformation,  connected  with   political 
liberty,  i.  26  ;  how  related  to  the  Re- 
naissance, 25,  ii.  536 ;  inimical  to  the 
Fine  Arts,  iii.  28 
Regno,   the,    early  medieval  effort  to 

form  a  monarchy  in  Italy,  i.  50-52 
Religion,  opposition  between  religion 
and  science,  i.  15  ;  a  cause  of  disor- 
der in  Italy,  205 ;  morality  and  reli- 
gion disunited  in  Italy,  174  note  i, 
433.  447.  4.62,  ii.  234,  257,  iii.  451  ; 
Machiavelli's  opinions  on  religion,  i. 
453».454;  vitality  of  religion,  469; 
religion  and  art :  how  far  inseparable, 
iii.  6  note  \  ;  injury  done  to  religion 
by  the  sensuousness  of  art,  iii.  ii,  19, 
22,  31 ;  contrast  between  Greek  and 
Christian  religious  notions,  12 ;  the 
opposition  of  religion  and  art,  24-16, 
28;  separate  spheres  and  points  of 
contact  between  religion  and  art,  30 
Reliques,  Italian  passion  for,  i.  460 
Renaissance,  the,  meaning  of  the  term, 
i.  1-4,  5,  28,  v.  489  foil.  ;  the  Re- 
naissance the  emancipation  of  the 
reason,  i.  9,  14,  ii.  13,  43,  535,  iii. 

8,  179.  333» iv-  447.  v-  '4»  26.  447. 
491 :  the  revelation  of  nature  in 
the  world  and  man,  i.  15  note  i,  iii. 
325,  v.  483,  527,  528;  problem  of 
the  Renaissance,  v.  523,  527;  the 
imitation  of  the  Renaissance  impossi- 
ble, 526;  place  of  the  Renaissance  in 
the  history  of  humanity,  527-529; 
rise  and  growth  of  the  Renaissance,  i. 
26,  v.  448 ;  precursors  of  the  Re- 
naissance, i.  8,  26,  27 ;  its  relation  to 
the  Reformation,  26,  ii.  536,  v.  529, 
530;  the  Renaissance  and  modern 


624 


INDEX. 


Renaissance  (Continued). 

science,  i.  16,  17,  v.  483,  491 ;  aided 
by  the  progress  of  inventions,  i.  3, 
29 ;  began  in  Italy,  30,  v.  492,  529 ; 
mingled  polish  and  barbarism  of  the 
Italian  Renaissance,  i.  172,  183,  373, 
570,  v.  523 ;  changes  in  culture  effect- 
ed by  the  humanism  of  the  Renais- 
sance, i.  185,  ii.  393, 543,  v.  508 ;  irre- 
ligious character  of  the  Renaissance, 
i.  174  note  i,  455,  ii.  16,  44,  205,  217, 
257,  518,  iii.  228,  v.  486;  the  Pagan- 
ism of  the  Renaissance,  i.  454  note  i, 
464,  ii.  17,  18,  39,  72,  395  foil.,  470, 
489.  5i6»  520,  540,  iil  7.  33-35. 
107,  135,  167,  175,  257,  iv.  39,  404, 
v.  216,  486,  492 ;  indigenous  in  Italy, 
iv.  39  ;  its  real  character  and  extent, 
ii.  395,  iv.  106  note  2  ;  religious  sen- 
timent, how  influenced  by  the  Re- 
naissance, iv.  207,  v.  455  ;  fitness  of 
the  Italian  character  to  work  out  the 
Renaissance,  ii.  1-4,  iv.  10 ;  fertility 
of  the  Renaissance  in  men  of  univer- 
sal genius,  ii.  10  (cp.  125),  341  ;  the 
Renaissance  not  so  productive  in  re- 
ligion and  philosophy  as  in  art,  21, 
337,  iv.  10,  v.  447,  492  ;  introduced 
a  democracy  of  intellect,  ii.  32,  33  ; 
the  thirst  for  fame  characteristic  of 
the  Renaissance,  38,  80 ;  criticism  a 
creation  of  the  Renaissance,  iv.  447  ; 
the  passion  for  collecting,  ii.  139 ; 
effect  of  the  study  of  Roman  antiqui- 
ties upon  the  Renaissance,  142  foil., 
429  foil.  (cp.  iii.  48  note  i);  undue 
influence  of  rhetoric  in  the  Renais- 
sance, ii.  149,  190,  216,  513,  525,  v. 
247,  430,  451  ;  uncritical  character  of 
the  first  scholars  of  the  Renaissance, 
ii.  296,  327,  337,  382,  v.  451,  483; 
ideal  of  life  produced  by  the  Renais- 
sance, ii.  330,  iv.  219,  v.  517;  the 
Renaissance  checked  the  spontaneity 
of  the  Italian  intellect,  ii.  394,  iv. 
403 ;  modern  culture  a  gift  of  the 
Renaissance,  ii.  9,  408,  506,  524,  v. 
491,  5°5i  524;  the  Renaissance  ap^ 
preciative  of  form  independently  of* 
matter,  ii.  471,  513,  514,  iv.  403; 
the  weaknesses  of  the  literary  and  ar- 
tistic ideal  of  the  Renaissance,  ii.  504, 
iii.  170,  179;  predominance  of  art  in 


Renaissance  ( Continued). 
the  Renaissance  period,  iii.  1-5,  v.  6  ; 
difficulty  of  rendering  justice  to  the 
poetry  of  the  Renaissance,  iii.  2  (cp. 
iv.  403) ;  the  Renaissance  restored 
the  appreciation  of  natural  beauty, 
iii.  32  ;  error  of  the  artists  of  the  Re- 
naissance in  imitating  the  worst  side 
of  Paganism,  175,  454,  489;  expres- 
sion of  the  Renaissance  by  the  four 
great  painters,  Lionardo  da  Vinci, 
Michelangelo,  Raphael,  and  Correg- 
gio,  312,  319,  323,  325,  346 ;  differ- 
ent parts  borne  by  Venice  and  Flo- 
rence in  the  Renaissance,  iii.  354,  iv. 
364 ;  the  genius  of  the  Renaissance 
typified  in  Boccaccio,  iv.  104;  satire 
on  the  Church  not  combined  with 
unorthodoxy  in  the  Renaissance,  109 
note  i,  447 ;  mixture  of  religious 
feelings  with  vices  in  men  of  the  Re- 
naissance, 384,  v.  228 ;  manner  in 
which  the  myth  of  Orpheus  expressed 
the  Renaissance,  iv.  410,  v.  221,  450  ; 
the  culture  of  the  Renaissance  de- 
rived from  Latin,  not  Greek,  models, 
v.  132  note  i ;  the  completion  of  the 
Renaissance  announced  by  the  pas- 
toral dramas  of  Tasso  and  Guarini, 
245  ;  belief  in  the  efficacy  of  a  classi- 
cal revival  common  at  the  Renais- 
sance, /\/\\  ;  the  dream  of  a  Golden 
Age,  195,  521  ;  the  volluttb  idillica 
of  the  Renaissance,  196,  230 

Renaissance  architecture :  Brunelleschi's 
visit  to  Rome,  iii.  68 ;  task  of  the 
first  architects  of  the  Renaissance,  69 ; 
criticism  of  Renaissance  architecture, 
70 ;  divided  into  three  periods,  70 ; 
character  of  the  first  period,  71,  So: 
of  the  second,  80:  of  the  third,  93; 
influence  of  this  third  or  Palladian 
period  on  Northern  Europe,  97 ; 
comparison  of  the  various  stages  of 
this  style  with  the  progress  of  scholar- 
ship towards  pedantry,  98 ;  reasons 
why  this  style  can  never  be  wholly  su- 
perseded, 99  ;  this  style  the  most  truly 
national  in  Italy,  v.  505 

Rend  of  Anjou,  expelled  from  Naples 
by  Alfonso,  i.  568 

Republics,  the  Italian  :  varied  character 
of  the  Italian  republics,  i.  193  ;  their 


INDEX. 


625 


Republics,  the  Italian  (Continued). 
resemblance  to  the  Greek  States,  195  ; 
theories  of  citizenship  in  them,  195  ; 
their  instability,  198 ;  causes  of  this, 
205 ;  their  snaallness,  209 ;  their  dis- 
union, 211  ;  their  mercantile  charac- 
ter, 238 

Reuchlin,  i.  27,  ii.  391  ;  influenced  by 
Florentine  Platonism,  ii.  208 ;  heard 
Argyropoulos  lecture  at  Rome,  210  ; 
a  pupil  of  Poliziano's.  350 ;  the  friend 
of  Gian  Francesco  Pico,  423 

Revivalism,  religious,  in  Italy,  i.  490, 
ii.  17  (see  Appendix  iv.  vol.  i.) ;  un- 
known at  Venice,  iii.  358 

Reynolds,  Sir  Joshua,  his  criticism  of 
Ghiberti,  iii.  132 

Rhetoric,  influence  of,  at  the  Renais- 
sance, ii.  149,  190,  216,  513,  525,  v. 
247,  430,  451  ;  want  of  original 
thought  in  the  oratory  of  the  Re- 
naissance, ii.  191,  278  note  2,  513 

Rhosos,  Joannes,  a  member  of  the  Al- 
dine  Academy,  ii.  387 

Riario,  Girolamo,  i.  389 ;  murder  of, 
1 20,  390:  Pietro,  Cardinal  di  San 
Sisto,  389 ;  his  extravagant  profligacy, 
390-392  (cp.  iv.  3 1 5);  his  convention 
with  Galeazzo  Maria  Sforza,  392 : 
Cardinal  Raphael,  407 ;  concerned  in 
Petruccio's  conspiracy,  437  ;  his  pa- 
tronage of  scholars  at  Rome,  ii.  404 ; 
buys  Michelangelo's  Cupid  as  an  an- 
tique, iii.  389  ;  representation  of  the 
Fall  of  Granada  before  him,  v.  117 
note  i  (cp.  138) 

Ribellamentu  Lu,  di  Sicilia,  its  doubt- 
ful authenticity,  iv.  36 

Riccio,  Andrea,  his  work  as  a  bronze 
founder,  iii.  78  note  i 

Rienzi,  takes  the  title  of  Tribune,  ii. 
30;  his  relations  to  Petrarch,  83, 
147-149  ;  his  plan  to  restore  the  Re- 
public in  Rome,  145  (cp.  i.  376) ;  his 
confusion  of  medieval  and  classical 
titles,  146  ;  his  downfall,  147 

Rifacimento,  question  whether  Dino's 
Chronicle  is  a  work  of  this  class,  i. 
263,  273  ;  similar  question  about  the 
Malespini  Chronicle,  252  note  I,  iv. 
36  :  about  Pandolfini's  Governo  della 
Famiglia,  iv.  194:  Rifacimento  of 
the  Orlando  Innamorato  (see  Berni) 


Rimini,  S.  Francesco,  adapted  by  Leo 
Battista  Alberti,  i.  172,  326,  ii.  34, 
210,  342;  the  bas  reliefs  in  the  side 
chapels,  iii.  161 ;  Piero  della  Fran- 
cesca's  portrait  of  Sigismondo  Pan- 
dolfo  Malatesta,  235 

Rinaldo  d' Aquino,  his  Farewell,  iv.  37 

Ripamonti,  quoted,  i.  163,  167  note  I 

Rispetti,  meaning  of  the  term,  iv.  264  ; 
common  character  of,  throughout 
Italy,  266  ;  question  of  their  first  ori- 
gin, 267 ;  their  antiquity,  268 ;  their 
themes,  272 ;  purer  in  the  country 
than  in  the  towns,  272 

Ristoro  da  Arezzo,  his  Composizione  del 
Mondo,  iv.  36 

Robbia,  Luca  della,  his  work  as  a  sculp- 
tor in  Italian  churches,  iii.  78  note  i  ; 
his  bas-reliefs  in  glazed  ware,  79 ;  un- 
affected by  the  Pagan  spirit  of  the 
Renaissance,  135 ;  his  genius  con- 
trasted with  that  of  Ghiberti  or  Dona- 
tello,  148;  beauty  of  his  work,  148- 
150  :  Luca  della,  nephew  of  the  sculp- 
tor, his  account  of  his  interview  with 
Paolo  Boscolo,  i.  466,  v.  519 

Robbias,  the  Delia,  successors  of  Luca 
in  his  manufacture  of  earthenware,  iii. 
150 

Robert  of  Anjou,  King  of  Naples,  his 
patronage  of  Petrarch  and  Boccaccio, 
ii.  252,  iv.  1 20  note  \ 

Robert  of  Geneva,  i.  8l 

Robert,  illegitimate  son  of  Pandolfo 
Sigismondo  Malatesta,  said  to  have 
poisoned  the  Florentine  poet,  II  Bur- 
chiello,  iv.  260 

Roberto  di  Battifolle,  poems  of,  iv.  165 

Roberto  da  Lecce,  his  preaching  at  Pe- 
rugia and  Rome,  i.  614 ;  his  attacks 
on  Beccadelli's  Hermaphrodites,  ii. 
256  note  i 

Robusti,  the  (Tintoretto  and  his  son), 
iii.  371 

Rocchi,  Cristoforo,  his  model  for  the 
Cathedral  of  Pavia,  iii.  68  ;  the  pupil 
of  Bramante,  82 

Rodolph  of  Hapsburg,  his  grant  to  the 
Papacy,  i.  374 

Roland  Legend,  the :  spread  of  the  Ro- 
land Romances  in  Italy,  iv.  13,  427  ; 
in  the  upper  classes  gave  place  to  the 
Arthur  Legend,  17,  18;  preference 


626 


INDEX. 


Roland  Legend,  the  {Continued). 
of  the  popular  writers  for  the  episode 
of  Rinaldo,  244 ;  reasons  of  this,  437  ; 
the  Chanson  de  Koland,  433  ;  his- 
torical basis  of  the  myth,  434-437  ; 
legend  that  Roland  was  son  of  a  Ro- 
man prefect,  439  (cp.  ii.  30) 

Rolandino,  the  Chronicle  of,  i.  251 

Roman  Empire,  the  old,  its  dissolution, 
i.  5  ;  its  place  taken  by  the  Papacy,  6 

Roman  Empire,  the  Holy,  i.  41  ;  con- 
flict of  the  Empire  and  the  Papacy, 
59,  60,  68,  97,  loo,  374,  iv.  6; 
power  of  the  Imperial  idea,  i.  97 

Romances  of  the  Quattro  Cento,  iv. 
244-249 ;  their  positive  tone,  248 

Romanesque  (Tuscan)  Style,  the,  iii.  47, 

49,  i."»  v-  504 

Romanino,  Girolamo,  iii.  503 

Rome,  not  included  in  Theodoric's 
kingdom,  i.  46  ;  effect  of  this,  47,  49, 
93  ;  address  of  the  Roman  Senate  to 
the  Emperor  Frederick,  65,  iv.  13 ; 
prestige  of  the  name  of  Rome,  i.  92, 
ii.  57 ;  Sack  of  Rome,  i.  222,  444,  ii. 
443,  iii.  414,  438,  455,  iv.  2 :— uni- 
versally recognized  as  a  judgment  on 
its  sins,  i.  446,  ii.  445 ;  sufferings  of 
the  learned  in  the  Sack  of  Rome,  443, 
v.  357  ;  government  of  Rome  in  the 
middle  ages,  i.  375  ;  the  Romans  wel- 
come the  accession  of  Alexander  VI. 
to  the  Papacy,  407  ;  state  of  Rome 
under  Leo  X.,  437;  pageants  at  the 
reception  of  the  head  of  S.  Andrew  at 
Rome,  461,  iv.  316;  profligacy  of 
Rome,  i.  474,  ii.  217,  405-407,  v. 
190,  386 ;  effect  of  the  study  of  the 
ruins  of  Rome  on  the  Renaissance,  ii. 
142  foil.,  429  foil.  (cp.  iii.  48  note  i) ; 
culture  flourished  less  at  Rome  than 
Florence,  ii.  215,  iv.  364,  366,  v. 
499  ;  place  of  Rome  in  literature  and 
art,  i.  79,  iii.  181  note  \,  184;  early 
Roman  printers,  ii.  368,  405  ;  reasons 
for  the  pre-eminence  of  Rome  in  the 
fourth  age  of  culture,  440  ;  occupation 
of  the  old  Roman  buildings  by.the 
various  great  families,  iii.  46  ;  Gothic 
architecture  never  much  practised  at 
Rome,  46;  Cellini's  description  of 
Rome  under  Clement  VII.,  452 ; 
protection  of  assassins  in  Papal  Rome, 


Rome  (Continued). 
459;  representations  of  Plautus  and 
Terence  in  the  original  at  Rome,  v» 
138 

—  S.    Clemente,    Masaccio's  fresco    of 
St.  Catherine,  iii.   229:  S.  Maria  so- 
pra  Minerva,   Filippino  Lippi's   Tri- 
umph of  S.  Thomas,  207,  248 ;  the 
Christ    of    Michelangelo,    414 :     S. 
Maria  delle  Pace,  Raphael's  frescoes, 
334  :  S.  Maria  del  Popolo,  Raphael's 
mosaics,  79  note  3,  334:  S.  Maria  in 
Trastevere,    Mino's    tabernacle,    158 
note  i  :  S.  Peter's,  plan  of  Nicholas 
V.,   i.    379,   iii.  90 ;  commenced  by 
Julius  II.,  i.  433,  iii.  90;  built  with 
money  raised  from  indulgences,  i.  439  • 
Michelangelo's  dome,  iii.  88  ;  the  va- 
rious   architects    employed,     90-93 ; 
Bernini's  colonnade,  93  ;  the  Bronze 
Gates  (by  Filarete),  108,  v.  424  ;  Gi- 
otto's mosaic,  iii.  190  ;  Michelangelo's 
Pieta,  389,  420  :  S.  Pietro  in  Vincoli, 
Michelangelo's  Moses,  399,  340,  420, 
422 

—  Sistine  Chapel,   the,   building  of,   i. 
384  note  i  ;  Michelangelo's  frescoes, 
iii.  403-423.   (See  Buonarroti,  Michel- 
angelo. ) 

—  Cancelleria,   the,  by.Bramante,  iii. 
82:    Villa   Farnesina,  by    Baldassnre 
Peruzzi,  83,  84,  334:  Villa  Madama, 
by  Raphael  and  Giulio  Romano,  83  : 
Pandolfini,  by  Raphael,  83 :  Vidoni, 
by  Raphael,  83 

—  Academy,  the,  founded  by  Pompo- 
nius  Laetus,  ii.  361,  365,  409,  v.  272; 
representations  of  Plautus  and  Ter- 
ence in  the  original  by  the  Academy, 
v.  138 

—  High  School,  the  (the  Sapienza),  es- 
tablished by  Boniface  VIII.,  ii.  117; 
reformed  by  Leo  X.,  426 ;   reasons 
why  it  did  not  rival  other  Italian  uni- 
versities, 426 

Roman   School   of   Painting,    the,   iii. 

183;    reason  of  its  early  decadence, 

490-492 
Romeo   and   Juliet,    story   of,    5.   74;* 

treatment  of  the  story  by  Bandello 

and  Shakspere  compared,  v.  71 
Romualdo,  S.,  legend  of,  ii.  339 
Rondinelli,   Giuliano  (or  Andrea),   the 


INDEX. 


627 


Rondinelli,  Giuliano  {Continued). 
Franciscan    chosen   to    undergo    the 
ordeal  of  fire  with  Fra  Domenico,  i. 
533  note  i 

Rossellino,  Antonio,  delicacy  and  purity 
of  his  work,  iii.  154;  his  monument 
to  the  Cardinal  di  Portogallo,  153 : 
Bernardo,  his  monument  to  Lionardo 
Bruni,  ii.  186,  iii.  158  note  z 

Rossi,  the,  at  Parma,  how  they  acquired 
despotic  power,  i.  112,  114;  over- 
thrown by  the  Visconti,  145  ;  reap- 
pear after  the  death  of  Gian  Galeazzo, 
150 

Rossi,  Porzia  de',  the  mother  of  Tasso, 
v.  298 :  Roberto  de',  a  scholar  of 
Giovanni  da  Ravenna,  ii.  100 ;  one 
of  the  society  in  S.  Spirito,  102 ; 
visits  Chrysoloras  at  Venice,  109 ; 
learns  Greek  of  him,  no 

Rosso  de'  Rossi,  his  visit  to  the  Court 
of  France,  iii.  445,  498  ;  his  frescoes 
at  the  Annunziata,  Florence,  498 
note  i 

Rubens,  his  transcript  of  the  Battle  of 
the  Standard,  iii.  145,  321  ;  his  tran- 
script of  Mantegna's  Triumph  of 
C&sar,  274,  321  note  I  ;  compared 
with  Paul  Veronese,  372 

Rucellai,  Bernardo,  opens  the  Rucellai 
Gardens  to  the  Florentine  Academy, 
v.  236  ;  Cipriano,  his  friendship  with 
Palmieri,  549 :  Giovanni,  his  Aj>i, 
ii.  47 1 ,  v.  236 ;  his  tragedy  of  Ros- 
munda,  v.  129,  236 ;  the  Oreste, 

133  ;   compared  with  the  Rosmunda, 

134  ;  his  friendship  with  Giangiorgio 
Trissino,  236  :   Palla,  236 

Rucellai  Gardens,  the,  Machiavelli's  dis- 
courses there,  i.  293,  328,  ii.  366,  v. 
236,  239  ;  Rucellai's  Rosmunda  acted 
before  Leo  X.  there,  v.  129 

Ruggieri,  Fra,  leader  of  mercenaries  in 
Southern  Italy,  i.  156 

Ruggieri  Pugliese,  shows  in  his  Lament 
traces  of  genuine  Italian  feeling,  iv.  26 

Ruscelli,  Girolamo,  his  Capitolo  on  the 

,    Spindle,  v.  365 

Rusconi  family,  the,  at  Como,  i.  150 

Rustici,  Giovanni  Francesco,  festivals 
organised  by  him,  v.  115 

Rusticiano  of  Pisa,  his  French  version 
of  Marco  Polo,  iv.  35 


SABADINO,  his  Porretane,  v.  60 
Sabbatini,  Andrea,  the  scholar  of 
Raphael,  iii.  490 

Sabellicus.     (See  Cocdo.) 

Sacchetti,  Franco,  his  Novelle,  iv.  148 : 
composed  in  the  vernacular  Tuscan, 
148 ;  their  value  as  a  picture  of  man- 
ners, 149  j  comparison  between  Sac- 
chetti, Masuccio,  and  Boccaccio,  179 ; 
Sacchetti  as  a  poet,  154-156;  his 
funeral  Ode  for  Petrarch,  137  note  I ; 
for  Boccaccio,  137;  his  political  po- 
ems, 1 6 1,  163;  his2fa//#te,  O  vaghe 
montanine  pasturelle,  155,  262,  305; 
his  admiration  for  Boccaccio,  148 

Sacre  Rappresentazioni,  the,  i.  477  note 
i,  480,  iv.  172;  contained  the  germs 
of  a  national  theatre,  iv.  306,  v.  109, 
136;  took  their  origin  from  the  reli- 
gious practices  of  the  Laudesi,  iv. 
307  ;  their  relation  to  the  Northern 
Miracle  Plays,  312;  mode  in  which 
they  were  represented,  313 ;  theory 
that  they  arose  from  a  blending  of 
the  midsummer  festivals  at  Florence 
and  the  Divozioni,  314-320 ;  their 
form,  321,  v.  182  note  2 ;  their  reli- 
gious character,  iv.  323,  v.  112,  519; 
their  scenic  apparatus,  iv.  324-327  ; 
how  far  illustrated  from  contempo- 
rary works  of  art,  327  note  I,  338, 
340,  343  ;  analysis  of  the  play  of  S. 
Uliva,  327-330,  351;  translation  of 
the  Dirge  of  Narcissus  and  the  May 
Song,  328  ;  universality  of  the  legend 
upon  which  it  is  founded,  351,  353  5 
subjects  of  other  plays  which  have 
been  preserved,  331 :  analysis  of  the 
play  of  Mary  Magdalen,  331-337; 
translation  of  Christ's  Sermon,  333- 
336 :  the  Figliuol  Prodigo,  337  :  ele- 
ments of  comedy  in  the  sacred  dra- 
mas, 337  note  3 ;  their  treatment  of 
Mary  and  the  Magdalen,  339  ;  dra- 
mas dealing  with  monastic  legends, 
341-343 ;  lack  of  the  romantic  ele- 
ment, 343 ;  show  less  maturity  than 
the  contemporary  works  of  art,  346  ; 
their  interest  as  illustrating  Italian 
imagination,  347,  v.  54:  analysis  of 
Teofilo,  the  Italian  Faust,  iv.  347- 
349  :  analysis  of  the  Ri  Superbo  and 
Barlam  e  Josafat,  349:  the  Stella, 


628 


INDEX. 


Sacre  Rappresentazioni,  the  (Confd). 
Kosana,    and  Agnolo   Ebrao,    353- 
355 :    the    three    Pilgrimage    Plays, 
355-357:  failure  of  the  sacred  dra- 
mas to  create  a  national  theatre,  357, 

V.   112 

Sacrtficio,  El,  a  masque  played  at  Siena, 
v.  143  note  2 

Sadoleto,  Jacopo,  cited  for  the  preva- 
lent belief  that  the  Sack  of  Rome  was 
a  judgment  of  God  on  the  city,  i. 
446,  ii.  416;  made  a  Cardinal,  ii. 
402,  416;  his  rise  into  greatness, 
403  ;  his  entertainments  of  the  Ro- 
man Academy,  409  ;  his  poem  on  the 
Laocoon,  415,  432,  496;  his  gravity 
and  sincerity  of  character,  416 ;  his 
friendship  with  Vittoria  Colonna,  v. 
292  ;  his  '  Commentary  on  the  Ro- 
mans' placed  on  the  Index,  ii.  416 

Salaino,  Andrea,  the  favourite  pupil  of 
Lionardoda  Vinci,  iii.  317,  484 

Salerno,  University  of,  ii.  117 

Salimbene,  Fra  his  Chronicle  of  Parma, 
i.  251  ;  his  account  of  Frederick  II., 
iv.  21 

Salimbeni,  the,  at  Siena,  v.  99 

Salutato,  Coluccio,  his  '  Letters '  quoted 
for  the  influence  of  Petrarch  on  Boc- 
caccio, ii.  90  note  \  ;  their  value,  104 
note  \  ;  their  contemporary  influence, 
104,  531,  iv.  175;  his  importance  as 
a  stylist,  ii.  103-105  ;  one  of  the 
circle  in  S.  Spii  ito,  102 ;  his  patron- 
age of  learning,  106,  230 ;  translates 
Dante  into  Latin  verse,  103,  106, 
449  ;  causes  Petrarch's  Africa  to  be 
published,  104  note  i,  106 ;  his  in- 
vective against  the  copyists,  130;  saw 
the  desirability  of  forming  public  li- 
braries, 166;  his  poems,  iv.  165 

Salviati.  Archbishop  of  Pisa,  his  share 
in  the  Pazzi  Conspiracy,  i.  397,  398 

Salviati,  Caterina,  wife  of  Nerli,  i.  290 

Salviati,  Francesco,  mentioned  by  Doni 
as  scene-painter  at  a  representation 
of  comedy  in  Florence,  v  144  note  4 

San  Gemignano,  Savonarola  at,  i.*5O7  ; 
the  towers  of,  507,  iii.  58  ;  Gozzolo's 
frescoes,  L  507,  iii.  242,  v.  54 ;  Ghir- 
landajo's  frescoe«,  i.  507,  iii.  259; 
Da  Majano's  bas-reliefs,  iii.  160 

Sancia,   Donna,  wife  of  the   youngest 


Sancia,  Donna  (Continued). 

son  of  Alexander  VI.    by   Vanozza 
Catanei,  {.418 

Sanga,  Battista,  the  secretary  of  Cle- 
ment VII. ,  v.  380 ;  addressed  by 
Berni  in  the  suppressed  stanzas  of  the 
rifacimento  of  the  Orlando  Innamo- 
rato,  379,  380 

Sanmicheli,  Michele,  his  work  as  an 
architect  at  Verona,  iii.  86 

Sannazzaro,  Jacopo,  facts  of  his  life,  v. 
198  ;  a  member  of  the  Roman  Acad- 
emy, ii.  361  ;  of  the  Neapolitan, 
363,  v.  198  ;  his  friendship  with  Pon- 
tanus,  ii.  363,  v.  198 ;  representation 
of  him  in  the  Church  of  Monte  Oli- 
veto  at  Naples,  ii.  365,  iii.  164,  v. 
198 ;  frigid  purism  of  his  De  Parttt 
Virginia,  ii.  398,  468,  470  (cp.  v. 
249) ;  criticism  of  Lilius  Gyraldus 
upon  it,  ii.  469  note  i ;  his  Latin 
poems,  468,  v.  198-201  ;  his  epi- 
grams on  the  Borgia  and  Rovere 
families,  ii.  469,  v.  199;  preferred 
Fracastoro's  Syphilis  to  his  own  epic, 
ii.  477  ;  translation  of  one  of  his  son- 
nets, v.  200;  his  Arcadia,  202;  first 
gave  form  to  the  Arcadian  ideal,  197  ; 
its  mixture  of  autobiography  and  fa- 
ble, 202  ;  idyllic  beauty  of  the  epi- 
sodes, 202  ;  its  art  illustrated  by  the 
paintings  of  Mantegna,  203  ;  by  the 
Quattro  Cento  painters  in  general, 
204,  207 ;  its  literary  style,  203 ; 
representative  of  the  spirit  of  the  Re- 
naissance, 202 ;  translation  of  the 
description  of  the  '  Shrine  of  Pales,' 
205-207 ;  of  the  portrait  of  Aina- 
ranta  (Carmosina  Bonifacia),  207- 
209 ;  of  the  description  of  the 
nymphs  and  shepherds,  209 ;  of 
pictures  of  inanimate  nature,  209; 
of  Carino's  Lament,  210;  the  Ar~ 
cadia  the  model  of  Sir  Philip  Sid- 
ney's work,  211  ;  the  poetical  por- 
tions, 211  ;  translation  of  a  Sestine, 

212 

Sanseverini,  the,  of  Rome,  Pomponiuj 
Laetus  said  to  have  been  related  to 
them,  ii.  33,  359 ;  their  ruin,  v.  298 

—  Ferrante,  Prince  of  Salerno,  takes 
Bernardo  Tasso  into  his  service,  v. 
298 


INDEX. 


629 


Sansovini,  the,  their  work  as  sculptors 
and  bronze  founders  in  Italian  church- 
es, iii.  78  note  i 

—  (I)  Andrea  Contucci  di  Monte  San- 
savino :  his  tombs  of  Ascanio  Sforza 
and  Girolamo  della  Rovere,  iii.  156  ; 
straining  after  effect  in  his  work,  156, 
166 : — (2)  Jacopo  Tatti,  called  II 
Sansovino  :  his  work  as  an  architect 
at  Venice,  iii.  85,  167,  355;  the  Li- 
brary of  St.  Mark's,  85,  167;  the 
friend  of  Titian  and  Aretino,  167, 
1 68,  v.  398,  409;  bravura  character 
of  his  works  in  sculpture,  iii.  167 ; 
his  bronze  door  of  the  sacristy  of  St. 
Mark,  168,  v.  424;  his  Bacchus,  illus- 
trating the  supremacy  of  pagan  mo- 
tives in  the  art  of  the  Renaissance, 
iii.  169  ;  story  of  the  model  who  sat 
for  the  Bacchus,  233 

Santi,  Giovanni  (father  of  Raphael), 
his  Chronicle  cited,  i.  166  note  3  ; 
written  in  the  metre  of  the  Divine 
Comedy,  iv.  1 72 ;  his  character  of 
Desiderio,  iii.  160;  his  Madonna, 
with  portraits  of  his  wife  and  the  in- 
fant Raphael,  330 

Sanudo,  a  member  of  the  Aldine  Acad- 
emy, ii.  387 ;  his  diary  cited  for  the 
wealth  of  the  Venetian  nobles,  i.  235 
note  i ;  for  the  disorders  caused  by 
the  sensuality  of  Alexander  VI.,  417 
note  I ;  for  the  belief  that  Alexander 
died  of  poison,  429,  430  ;  for  the 
story  that  Alexander  had  sold  his  soul 
to  the  devil,  431  ;  for  the  gluttony  of 
the  prelates,  479  note  i ;  for  the  pay 
of  jurists  in  Italian  universities,  ii. 
121 ;  for  the  shows  at  Ferrara  on  the 
marriage  of  Lucrezia  Borgia,  v.  141 
note  2 

Sappho,  lines  on  Fame,  translated,  ii. 
40 

Saronno,  church  of,  Luini's  frescoes,  iii. 
485-487;  Ferraii's  frescoes,  488 

Sarto.  Andrea  del,  his  visit  to  the  Court 
of  France,  iii.  445 ;  qualities  of  his 
colouring,  497  ;  his  pictures  wanting 
in  depth  of  thought  and  feeling,  497  ; 
creates  an  epoch  in  Florentine  art, 
496,  498 

Sarzana,  surrender  of,  by  Pietro  de' 
Medici,  i.  559 


Satire  in  the  Middle  Ages,  iv.  108;  in 
Italy  at  the  Renaissance,  v.  310,  381 

Sauli,  Stefano,  the  friend  of  Flaminio, 
ii.  501 ;  his  Genoese  origin,  illustrat- 
ing the  loss  of  literary  supremacy  by 
Florence,  506 

Savelli,  the,  at  Rome.  i.  375 

Saviozzo  da  Siena,  his  political  poems, 
iv.  161  ;  his  commentary  upon  the  Di- 
vine Comedy,  163 

Savonarola,  his  treatise  on  the  Govern- 
ment of  Florence,  i.  128  note  i,  277, 
iii.  265,  392  note  i,  iv.  386;  the  au- 
thor of  the  Florentine  Constitution 
of  1494,  i.  202,  222,  £26;  proclaims 
Christ  the  Head  of  the  State,  222, 
526,  iii.  214,  308;  his  hostility  to 
the  Parlamento,  i.  230  note  i,  526 ; 
his  Constitution  came  too  late  to  save 
the  city,  231 ;  his  admiration  of  the 
Venetian  polity,  234;  influence  of  his 
prophecies  at  the  siege  of  Florence, 
284,  290,  518,  536;  Guicciardini's 
account  of  him,  304,  308 ;  criticism 
of  him  by  Machiavelli,  345  ;  Savona- 
rola and  Machiavelli  contrasted,  368; 
confined  himself  to  the  reformation  of 
morals,  and  shrank  from  the  impu- 
tation of  heresy,  454,  499 ;  objected 
to  classical  learning  on  the  giound  of 
its  worldlines?,  456  note  i,  499,  505, 
506,  ii.  326,  396,  516;  his  opposition 
to  the  arts,  iii.  24,  29  note  I,  265, 
310 ;  his  denunciations  of  the  Papacy, 
i.  530;  his  testimony  to  Florentine 
profligacy,  475,  477  note  I,  480: 
story  of  his  life — his  boyhood,  499 ; 
takes  the  cowl,  501  ;  his  account  of 
his  vocation.  501  ;  goes  to  Florence, 
503  ;  sent  to  San  Gemignano,  506  ;  his 
first  success  at  Brescia,  508 ;  his  ap- 
pearance and  style  of  preaching,  508- 
514  (cp.  iii.  309  note  2) ;  believed 
in  his  own  gift  of  prophecy,  512  note 
i  ;  his  visions,  515;  how  far  he  was 
guided,  by  them,  518;  his  error  in 
teaching  the  Florentines  to  look  for 
foreign  aid,  518;  recalled  by  Lorenzo 
de'  Medici,  521  ;  his  opposition  to 
Lorenzo,  521 ;  called  to  Lorenzo  de' 
Medici's  deathbed,  523;  his  activity 
takes  a  political  turn,  524,  iv.  384; 
the  Bonfire  of  Vanities,  i.  527,  iv. 


630 


INDEX. 


Savonarola  (Continued). 

392 ;  his  influence  begins  to  decay,  i. 
529,  531  ;  his  contest  with  Alexander 
VI.,  529 ;  weakness  of  his  position  in 
not  breaking  with  Rome,  530,  622  ; 
writes  letters  summoning  a  European 
council,  532 ;  his  letter  to  Alexander. 
532  ;  the  ordeal  by  fire,  533;  his 
imprisonment,  torture,  and  death, 
533-535;  his  canonisation  proposed, 

535 
Savonarola,  Michael,  his  '  Panegyric  of 

Padua,'  quoted  for   the  teaching  of 

perspective  in  Padua,  iii.  236 
Savoy,    the   House  of,  i.  52,  57,  no, 

146  note  i 
Scala  family,    the,   how  they  acquired 

their  power,  i.   in;   violent  deaths 

among  them,  120,  145  ;  their  tombs 

at  Verona,  iii.  124,  163 
Scala,   Alessandra,    Poliziano's  wooing 

of  her,  ii.  344: — Bartolommeo,  raised 

by  the  Medici  from   a  low  station, 

344  ;  his  quarrel  with  Poliziano,  344 
Scala,  Can  Grande  della,  i.  145  :  Mas- 

tino  della,  145 
Scaliger,  Julius  Caesar,  his  character  of 

Aldo  Manuzio  (the  grandson),  ii.  389; 

his  criticism  of  Fracastoro's  Syphilis, 

477 

Scamozzi,  Vincenzo,  character  of  his 
architectural  work,  iii.  96;  his  'Uni- 
versal Architecture,'  96  note  i 

Scandiano,  the  fief  of  Boiardo,  iv.  456, 

457 

Scardeone,  Bernardino,  describes  Odassi 
as  the  inventor  of  Maccaronic  verse, 
v.  329  note  3 

Scarparia,  Giacomo,  journeys  to  Byzan- 
tium with  Chrysoloras,  ii.  109 

Schiavo  da  Bari,  the,  his  Aphorisms  iv. 
240 

Scholarship,  state  of,  in  the  middle  ages, 
ii.  58  foil. 

Science,  opposition  between  science  and 
religion,  i.  16  ;  modern  science  dates 
from  the  Renaissance,  16,  17,  v.  483, 
491 

Scotti,  the,  at  Piacenza,  how  they  ac- 
quired power,  i.  112  ;  overthrown  by 
the  Visconti,  145;  reappear  after  the 
death'  of  Gian  Galeazzo,  150 

Scoronconcolo,  the  murderer  employed 


Scoronconcolo  (  Continued). 
by  Lorenzino  de'  Medici  against  his 
cousin  Alessandro,  v.  118 

Scotus,  Duns,  v.  467,  468 

Scrofa,  CamiUo,  author  of  the  /  Can- 
tici  di  Fidentio  Glottogrysio  Ludi- 
magistro,  v.  328 

Sculpture,  why  sculpture  yielded  to 
painting  in  the  modern  era,  iii.  8,  12- 
21,  31,  120;  the  handmaid  of  archi- 
tecture, 101  ;  took  a  pictorial  form 
with  the  Italians,  121,  132,  161,  177, 
195  ;  necessarily  assumes  a  subordi- 
nate position  in  Christian  architecture, 
122 ;  influence  of  goldsmith's  work 
over  the  Florentine  sculptors,  126  ;  the 
three  periods  of  Italian  sculpture, 
177  ;  more  precocious  in  its  evolution 
than  painting,  225 

Sebastian  del  Piombo,  influence  of 
Michelangelo  on  his  work,  iii.  493 ; 
his  friendship  with  Berni,  v.  363 

Sebastian  of  Pontremolo,  an  early  print- 
er, ii.  376 

Segni,  Bernardo,  belonged  to  the  neu- 
tral Medicean  party,  i.  289  ;  his  Flo- 
rentine History,  278,  279  :  its  charac- 
ter and  value,  292 ;  his  knowledge 
drawn  from  practical  life,  231,  280; 
his  account  of  Savonarola's  legislation 
at  Florence,  197  note  i,  526  note  I ; 
cited  for  the  story  of  Jacopino  Ala- 
manni,  211  ;  for  the  factions  of  Siena, 
207  note  2 ;  for  the  dedication  of  Flo- 
rence to  Christ,  222  note  i  ;  his  de- 
scription of  the  Parlamento  at  Flo- 
rence, 230  note  i  ;  cited  for  the  cor- 
ruption of  Florence,  231  ;  for  the 
conduct  of  the  Florentine  exiles,  236; 
his  account  of  Guicciardini,  299  note 
2;  of  Giovanni  Bandini,  477  note  i 

Senarega.  cited  for  the  expulsion  of  the 
Jews  by  Ferdinand,  i.  400  note  2, 
401 

Senate,  name  of  a  council  in  some  Italian 
cities,  i.  35 

Senator,  supreme  official  in  the  Roman 
republic,  i.  35 

Seneca,  influence  of  his  tragedies  on 
Italian  playwrights,  v.  127  note  I, 
130,  132  note  i,  135 

Sercambi,  Giovanni,  his  Novcllc,  iv,  150 
note  I 


INDEX. 


63I 


Sereni,  the,  an  Academy  at  Naples,  ii. 
366 

Serf*,  gradual  emancipation  of  the,  i. 
66 

Sermini,  Gentile,  his  Novelle,  v.  60,  97; 
story  of  Anselmo  Salimbeni  and  Carlo 
Montanini,  v.  99 

Serminiese,  a  form  of  Italian  poetry 
adapted  from  the  Provencal,  iv.  160, 
257  note  i 

Sesto,  Cesare  da,  the  scholar  of  Lion- 
ardo  da  Vinci,  iii.  484 

Sf^rza,  Anna,  the  wife  of  Alfonso 
d'Este,  v.  140:  Ascanio,  Cardinal, 
L  163,  405,  565;  his  monument  by 
Sansovino,  iii.  156  :  Caterina  Riario 
(wife  of  Girolamo  Riario),  160  note 
I,  390:  Francesco,  86.  88;  enters 
Milan  as  conqueror,  87,  154,  163,  ii. 
281;  supported  by  Cosimo  de'  Medici, 
i.  91,  155  ;  acquired  his  despotism  as 
leader  of  Condottieri,  113  note  I,  153, 
160,  163,  361,  364;  the  son  of  a 
peasant,  116,  153,  160  note  \  ;  treat- 
ment of  his  history  by  Machiavelli, 
345  ;  his  patronage  of  Filelfo,  ii.  38, 
282  'cp.  511);  his  hospital  at  Milan, 
iii.  59  :  Galeazzo.  his  assassination  at- 
tempted by  Girolamo  Gentile,  i.  168: 
Galeazzo  Maria,  165 ;  his  assassi- 
nation, 163,  166,  397  note  2,  543  ;  his 
intrigue  with  Pietro  Riario,  392 : 
Giovanni  Galeazzo,  543 ;  murdered  by 
his  uncle  Lodovico,  163,  480  note  2, 
555,  v.  118 ;  doubts  about  his  murder, 
i.  556  note  i:  Lodovico,  debt  of  the 
Milanese  School  of  Painting  to  him, 
79 ;  invites  the  French,  89,  90,  164, 
538,  542,  546;  poisons  his  nephew, 
163,  480  note  z,  555,  v.  118;  impri- 
soned in  Loches,  i.  547  ;  attempt  to 
assassinate  him,  397  note  2  ;  his  usur- 
pation of  power,  543,  548  ;  origin  of 
his  surname  //  Moro,  547 ;  his  char- 
acter, 548;  joins  the  League  of  Venice 
against  Charles,  576 ;  representations 
of  Latin  plays  before  him  by  the  Fer- 
rarese  actors,  iv.  498,  v.  140 

Sforza  (of  Pesaro),  Alessandro,  his  pa- 
tronage of  learning,  ii.  302  :  Costanzo, 
his  patronage  of  learning,  302  :  Gio- 
vanni, the  husband  of  Lucrezia  Borgia, 
i.  420 


Sforzeschi,  the,  mercenary  troops,  i.  160, 
362 

Shakspere :  his  treatment  of  the  story  of 
Romeo  and  Juliet  compared  with 
Bandello's,  v.  71  ;  was  probably  ac- 
quainted with  Bandello's  Novella  of 
Nicuola  and  the  comedy  Gli  Ingan- 
nati  before  writing  the  Twelfth  Night  t 
72 

Shelley,  quoted  to  illustrate  the  character 
of  Venetian  landscape,  iii.  350 ;  his 
opinion  of  the  Orlando  Furioso,  v.  41 
note  i 

Sicilian  period  of  Italian  literature,  iv. 
20 ;  period  during  which  it  flourished, 
21,  27  ;  character  of  the  dialect  used 
by  the  Sicilian  poets  (the  lingua 
aulica),  22 ;  artificial  nature  of  this 
poetry,  25;  translated  into  Tuscan 
idioms,  41,  ^2,  268  ;  traces  of  popular 
feeling  in  it,  26,  v.  504 ;  its  intrinsic 
weakness,  iv.  44 

Sicilies,  Kingdom  of  the  Two,  united  by 
Frederick  II.  to  the  Empire,  i.  68; 
given  by  the  Papacy  to  Charles  of 
Anjou,  75 

Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  his  ideal  of  a  classic 
drama,  v.  in,  136;  his  praise  of  the 
tragedy  of  Gorboduc,  132  note  i ,  136 ; 
took  Sannazzaro's  Arcadia  as  the 
model  of  his  own  work,  211 

Siena,  produced  no  great  work  of  litera- 
ture, i.  79 ;  generally  Ghibelline,  194 
(cp.  iv.  161);  discords  of  Siena,  207- 
209,  616,  ii.  164,  iii.  212,  213,  220; 
distinguished  by  religious  revivals  as 
well  as  by  factions,  i.  620  note  i.  iii. 
183,  220  (cp.  iv.  281) ;  the  Sienese 
bury  a  statue  of  Venus  in  the  Floren- 
tine territory,  ii.  433,  iii.  212  ;  archi- 
tecture of  the  Sienese  palaces,  iii.  60 ; 
independent  origin  of  painting  in 
Siena,  214  ;  the  Sienese  dedicate  their 
city  to  the  Virgin,  214,  357  ;  pageants 
at  Siena  in  honour  of  S.  Bernardino, 
iv.  315;  luxury  of  Siena  in  the  middle 
ages,  v.  96 

—  S.  Bernardino,  Pacchia's  paint- 
ings, iii.  501 :  S.  Domenico,  Guido  da 
Siena's  Madonna,  214  ;  Sodoma's  S. 
Catherine  at  the  Execution  of  Tttld\ 
500 :  Duomo,  the,  contrasted  with 
Northern  cathedrals,  54;  its  facade 


INDEX. 


Sienn,  S.  Bernardino  {Continued). 
(by  Giovanni  Pisano),  no;  its  mosaic 
pavements,  209,502,  iv.  130;  Duccio's 
altarpiece,  iii.  215 ;  Pinturicchio's 
frescoes  (in  the  Library),  302:  Church 
of  Fontegiusta,  Peruzzi's  Augustus 
and  the  Sibyl,  501  :  Monte  Oliveto, 
Fra  Giovanni's  wood-carvings,  78 
note  2 ;  Signorelli'  s  Soldiers  of  Totila, 
286  ;  Sodoma's  frescoes,  499,  iv.  132, 
343'  v.  54 

—  Palazzo  Pubblico,  iii.  6 1  ;  Taddeo  di 
Bartolo's  frescoes,    209 ;    Ambrogio 
Lorenzetti's  frescoes,    210;    Simone 
Martini's     Virgin    enthroned,    217 ; 
comparison    of  its  decorations  with 
those  of  the  Ducal  Palace,  Venice,  359 

—  University,  the :  receives  a  diploma 
from  Charles  IV.,  ii.  118 

—  Sienese    School    in    Painting,    the, 
characteristics  of  the    early   Sienese 
masters,  iii.  214,  216;  the  scholars  of 
Sodoma,  501 

Sigismund,  the  Emperor,  crowns  Bec- 
"cadelli  poet  at  Siena,  ii.  255;  Filelfo's 
mission  to  him  at  Buda,  268  ;  pageant 
in  his  honour  at  Lucca,  iv.  315 

Signorelli,  Luca,  his  studies  from  the 
nude  illustrate  the  changed  direction 
of  art,  iii.  23,  279,  292  ;  his  frescoes 
at  Orvicto.  iii.  56,  280,  281,  282,  iv. 
414  note  i  ;  the  arabesques,  ii.  440, 
iii.  283  ;  boldness  and  vigour  of  his 
genius,  iii.  279 ;  indebtedness  of 
Michelangelo  to  him,  279;  story  of 
his  painting  his  dead  son,  280;  his 
study  of  human  form,  285,  288 ;  his 
four  types  of  form,  286,  288 ;  his 
quality  as  a  colourist,  289  ;  the  Last 
Supper  at  Cortona,  289,  326  note  I  ; 
his  treatment  of  mythology  compared 
with  that  of  other  painters,  289-291 ; 
said  by  Michelangelo  to  have  treated 
him  badly,  292  note  I  ;  his  visit  to  the 
Vasaris  at  Arezzo,  293;  Vasari's 
character  of  him,  293 ;  competes  for 
the  decoration  of  the.Stanze  of  the 
Vatican,  300  *• 

Simone,  his  bas-reliefs  at  S.  Francesco, 
Rimini,  iii.  162 

Simonctta.  Cecco,  his  execution  by 
Lodovico  Sforza,  i.  543,  548 

Simonetta,  La  Bella,  v.  230;  her  rela- 


Simonetta,  La  Bella  (Continued}. 
tion  to  Giuliano  de'  Medici,  iv.  403, 
406  note  i  (cp.  420-422) ;  her  portrait 
by  Botticelli,  406  note  \  ;  painted  by 
Lippo  Lippi  in  his  frescoes  at  Prato, 
422 

Simony  of  the  Cardinals  at  Rome,  L  404, 
406 

Simplicity  of  character,  as  contemptible 
in  Italy  as  in  Greece  during  the  Pelo- 
ponnesian  war,  i.  324 

Sinigaglia,  Massacre  of,  i.  324,  347, 
427,  462 

Sismondi,  i.  64 ;  his  special  pleading  for 
Republican  institutions,  78,  115  ;  his 
description  of  Gian  Galeazzo,  144 ; 
quoted  about  the  Condottieri,  159 ; 
his  account  of  the  withdrawal  of  the 
Florentines  from  military  service,  226  ; 
on  the  Venetian  Council  of  Ten,  234 
note  I  ;  his  argument  that  Italy  would 
have  been  best  off  under  a  confedera- 
tion, 538  note  i  ;  his  calculation  of 
the  decline  in  number  of  the  free  citi- 
zens in  Italy,  547  note  i 

Sitibondi,  the,  an  Academy  at  Bologna, 
ii.  366 

Sixtus  IV.,  his  avarice,  sensuality,  and 
brutality,  i.  105,  113,  393-396,  iii. 
146;  his  low  origin,  i.  116,  388; 
abettor  of  the  Pazzi  conjuration,  168, 
396-398,  iv.  447,  v.  1 1 8;  his  services 
to  art,  i.  384  note  i;  amount  of  truth 
in  the  stories  about  him,  388  note  I ; 
began  the  system  of  founding  princi- 
palities for  his  family,  389 ;  his  wars, 
?95  ;  his  share  in  the  creation  of  the 
nquisition  and  the  expulsion  of  the 
Jews,  399-402 ;  invites  Filelfo  to 
Rome,  ii.  285 ;  opens  the  Vatican 
Library  to  the  public,  i.  384  note  i,  ii. 
227,  359;  his  destruction  of  ancient 
monuments  at  Rome,  430;  dies  of 
disappointment  and  rage,  i.  396 ;  his 
monument  by  Antonio  del  Pollajuolo, 
iil  147 

Smarriti,  the,  an  Academy  at  Faenza, 
ii.  366 

Soardi  Family,  the,  at  Bergamo,  i.  150 

Soderini,  Antonio,  i.  202,  289,  308, 
313  note  i  :  Cardinal,  414;  concerned 
in  Petrucci's  conspiracy,  437 

Soderini,  Piero,    Gonfaloniere  of  Flo- 


INDEX. 


633 


Soderini,  Piero  {Continued), 
rence,  i.  289,  314,  iii.  308,  iv.  393; 
Machiavelli's  epigram  upon  him,  i. 
324,  iii.  391  ;  aids  in  the  reconciliation 
of  Michelangelo  with  Julius  II.,  iii. 
402 

Sodoma,  competes  for  the  decoration 
of  the  Stanze  of  the  Vatican,  iii.  300  ; 
his  Sebastian,  an  instance  of  the  intro- 
duction of  pagan  ideas  into  Christian 
art,  34,  501  ;  his  Marriage  of  Alex- 
ander, illustrating  his  treatment  of 
the  antique,  291 ;  studied  both  under 
Lionardo  da  Vinci  and  Raphael,  499  ; 
inferiority  of  his  later  manner,  500  ; 
deficiency  in  composition  of  his  pic- 
tures, 500 

Soldanieri,  Niccolo,  his  Lyrics,  iv.  156 

Soleri,  Anna,  i.  581 

Sotittaf/iicsi,  the,  an  Academy  at  Bo- 
logna, ii.  366 

Spaniards,  cruelty  of  the,  i.  478,  ii.  441,  ; 

4H 

Sparta :  comparison  between  Venice  and 
Sparta,  i.  234 

Spenser,  his  mistake  in  supposing  the 
Orlando  Furioso  to  be  an  allegory 
throughout,  v.  21 

Speroni,  Speron,  v.  78  ;  his  correspond- 
ence with  Aretino,  410  note  i  ;  his 
tragedy  of  Canace,  130;  his  pastoral 
poems,  224 ;  a  passage  quoted  from 
his  Dialogues  to  show  the  spirit  in 
which  the  Italian  purists  worked,  252 
-256 ;  the  Dialogo  delle  Lingue,  271 
note  i 

Spina,  Bartolommeo  di,  takes  part  in  the 
controversy  raised  by  the  publication 
of  Pomponazzi's  De  Immortalitate 
AnimcE,  v.  461 

Spinelli,  Matteo,  doubtful  authenticity 
of  his  Chronicle,  iv.  36,  130  note  i, 
415  note  i 

SpineLo,  Aretino,  the  scholar  of  Giotto, 
iii.  197;  vigour  of  his  work,  219;  his 
love  of  warlike  subjects,  220 ;  various 
paintings  of  his,  219 

Spino,  Pietro,  his  Life  of  Bartolommeo 
Colleoni,  iii.  144 

Spirito,  Convent  of  Santo,  at  Florence, 
Marsigli's  Circle  in,  ii.  102 

Spoleto,  a  Lombard  Duchy,  i.  48 ;  its 
fate,  48  note  I,  50 


Spoleto,  the  Cathedral:  Filippo  Lippi's 
frescoes,  iii.  246 

Squarcione.  his  school  of  art  at  Padua, 
iii.  236,  270 

Stampa,  Gaspara,  v.  288 

Stefani,  Marchionne,  iv.  176 

Stefano  da  Bergamo,  his  tarsia  work  at 
Perugia,  iii,  78  note  z 

Stephani,  the  Estienne  family  of  printers 
at  Paris,  i.  23,  ii.  373,  383,  391 ; 
Henricus  (the  younger)  refuses  his 
books  to  Casaubon,  390  note  3 

Stephen  II.,  invites  the  Franks  against 
the  Lombards,  i.  50  :  Stephen  X.,  60 

Storditi,  the,  an  Academy  at  Bologna, 
ii.  366 

Stornelti,  meaning  of  the  term,  iv.  264 ; 
their  antiquity,  269  ;  their  themes, 
272;  purer  in  the  country  than  in  the 
towns,  272 

Strambotti,  meaning  of  the  term.  iv.  264 

Straparola,  Francesco,  his  Tredici  pia- 
cevoli  Notti,  v.  60,  78,  102;  the  No- 
vella of  the  Devil  and  his  Wife  com- 
pared with  Machiavelli's  Belphegor, 
102 

Strozzi,  the,  of  Ferrara,  iv.  457  ;  their 
panegyrics  of  Lucrezia  Borgia,  i.  422 

—  Ercole,  his  elegies,   ii.   497 ;    advo- 
cates the  sole  use  of  Latin   against 
Bembo,  414,  v.  259 ;  assassinated,  i. 
423 :    Lucia,  mother  of  Boiardo,  iv. 

457 
Strozzi,  the,  at  Florence,  i.  210  note  2 

—  Alessandra,  her  Letters,  iv.  176,  190 
note  i,  v.   190:  Filippo  (i),  account 
of  his  building  the  Palazzo  Strozzi,  iii. 
77  note  i  :  Filippo  (2),  leader  of  the 
Florentine  Exiles,  i.  211,  237,  280; 
general  agreement   of  the  historians 
upon  his  character,  285,  287 ;  advises 
Lorenzo  de'  Medici  (Duke  of  Urbino) 
to  make  himself  Duke  of  Florence, 
286  ;  his  vices  and  inconsistent  con- 
duct' 286  ;  his  death,  287 :  Marietta 
di  Palla,  Desiderio's  bust  of  her,  iii. 
159 :   Palla,  a  scholar  of  Giovanni  da 
Ravenna,  ii.    100 ;   aids  Salutato  to 
found  the  Chair  of  Greek  at  P'lorence, 
106,   109 ;    learns  Greek  from  Chry- 
soloras,  no;  his  patronage  of  learn- 
ing, 165,  223  ;  first  collects  books  to 
form  a  public  library,  166;  exiled  by 


634 


INDEX. 


Strozzi,  Alessandra  {Continued). 

Cosimo  de'  Medici,  167,  170:  Pietro, 

story  of  his  threat  to  assassinate  Are- 

tino,  v.  406 
Sulmona,  traditional  reverence  for  Ovid 

there,  ii.  30,  iv.  12 
Sulpizio  da  Veroli,  his  letter  to  Cardinal 

Riario  mentioning  the  representations 

of  Plautus  and  Terence  at  Rome,  v. 

139  note  i 

Sweynheim,  printer  at  Rome,  ii.  368 
Sylvius,  .,Eneas.     (See  Pius  II. ) 
Syncerus,  Accius.     (See  Sannazzaro.) 
Syphilis,  first  noticed  in  Charles'  army 

at  Naples,  i.  567,  567  note  i,  ii.  477 


DI  BARTOLO,  m.  216; 

his  frescoes  in  the  Palazzo  Pub- 
blico,  Siena,  209 ;  his  Visit  of  the 
Apostles  to  the  Virgin,  in  S.  Fran- 
cesco, Pisa,  218 

Talento,  use  of  the  word,  in  early  Ital- 
ian writers,  iv.  106 

Tansillo,  Luigi,  his  pastoral  poems,  v. 
224 

Tardolus,  Laomedon,  tortured  by  the 
Spaniards  at  the  Sack  of  Rome,  ii. 

445 

Tarlati  di  Pietra  Mala,  Bishop  Guido 
dei,  i.  83  ;  his  tomb,  iii.  210  note  2 

Tasso,  Bernardo  (father  of  the  poet), 
the  story  of  his  life,  v.  297  ;  his  Letters 
and  Miscellaneous  Poems,  299  ;  Are- 
tino's  criticism  of  the  Letters,  411; 
his  Amadigi,  299;  failed  to  gain 
popular  applause,  299;  his  Flori- 
dante,  300  note  I :  Torquato,  his  as- 
cription of  part  of  the  Morgante  to 
Ficino,  iv.  455  note  3 ;  his  genius 
representative  of  the  Counter-Re- 
formation, 464,  v^i  2 ;  his  censure  of 
Ariosto's  inductions,  v.  23  ;  contrast 
of  Ariosto  and  Tasso,  44 ;  the  Aminta 
with  Guarini's  Pastor  Fido,  the  per- 
fection of  the  Italian  pastoral  drama, 
114,  223,  241  ;  completes  the  Italian 
reaction  against  the  middle  ages,  ±44; 
the  most  original  dramatic  works  in 
Italian,  511  ;  essentially  lyrical  nature 
of  the  Aminta,  511;  its  opposition 
of  an  ideal  world  of  freedom  to  the 
world  of  laws,  242 ;  the  chorus  on  the 


Tasso,  Bernardo  (Continued). 

Age  of  Gold,  illustrative   of  Italian 
ideas  of  honour,  i.  486,  v.  243 

Taxes,  farming  of,  at  Perugia,  i.  86 
note  i 

Tebaldeo,  Antonio,  his  Pastoral  Poems, 
v.  224,  282  note  3 

Tedaldi,  Pieraccio,  his  Sonnet  on  Dante, 
iv.  162  ;  discouragement  expressed  in 
his  poems,  165 

Telesio,  v.  449 ;  Telesio  and  Campa- 
nella,  483  ;  his  importance  in  the  his- 
tory of  thought,  483-485,  500,  5lS 

Ten,  Council  of,  at  Venice.  (See  Coun- 
cil of  Ten.) 

Terence,  influence  of,  on  the  Italian 
playwrights,  v.  122,  136,  148,  181  ; 
representations  of,  in  the  original,  at 
Rome,  138;  at  Ferrara,  139-142; 
early  translations  of  Terence,  forming 
the  beginning  of  Italian  comedy,  140 

Terra  Cotta,  beauty  of  Italian,  iii.  79, 
IS*,  163 

Terracina,  Laura,  v.  288 

Terzi,  Ottobon,  i.  150,  151 ;  assassin- 
ated, 1 20 

Tessiras,  a  scholar  of  Poliziano,  ii.  350 

Theatres,  the  lack  of  permanent  thea- 
tres a  hindrance  to  national  drama  in 
Italy,  v.  144 ;  the  first,  that  built  by 
order  of  Alfonso  I.  at  Ferrara,  iv. 
499,  v.  144;  theatre  built  by  Leo  X. 
at  Rome,  v.  144  ;  the  Teatro  Farnese 
at  Parma,  144 

Theodoric,  reign  of,  i.  46,  47,  51 

Thomas  of  Aquino,  S.,  the  Siimma,  L 
60,  v.  450,  468 ;  teaching  of  S. 
Thomas  on  the  soul,  v.  469 

Thucydides,  his  account  of  Greek  mo- 
rality compared  with  the  state  of  Italy 
at  the  Renaissance,  325 

Tiburzio,  conspiracy  of,  at  Rome,  L  386 

Tiepolo,  conspiracy  of,  at  Venice,  {.217 
note  i,  218 

Tifernas,  Gregorios,  translates  the  Eth~ 
ics  for  Nicholas  V.,  ii.  229 

Tintoretto  [Jacopo  Robust  i],  his  sense 
of  beauty,  iii.  377 ;  compared  with 
Titian  and  Veronese,  378  ;  inequality 
of  his  work,  379;  character  of  his 
genius,  v.  46  ;  his  Bacchus  and  Ari- 
adne, illustrating  his  treatment  of  the 
antique,  iii.  291 ;  his  Paradise  in  the 


INDEX. 


635 


Tintoretto  [Jacopo  Robusti]  (Confd). 
Ducal  Palace,  358;  his  vehemence  and 
imaginativeness,  369,  370,  375 ;  his 
preference  of  subjects  more  properly 
belonging  to  poetry,  376  ;  story  of  his 
offering  to  paint  Aretino's  portrait,  v. 
406 

Titian,  his  portrait  of  Cardinal  Ippolito 
de'  Medici,  ii.  27  ;  sensuousness  of  his 
work,  iii.  25  ;  the  friend  of  Sansovino 
and  Aretino,  167,  168,  v.  398,  409 ; 
a  letter  of  his  quoted  for  the  project 
of  making  Aretino  Cardinal,  v.  405 
note  2  ;  his  Bacchus  and  Ariadne,  il- 
lustrating his  treatment  of  the  antique, 
iii.  291  ;  perfect  balance  of  his  pow- 
ers, 370,  379 ;  the  Three  Ages  of  Man, 
v.  522;  the  Assumption  of  Madonna, 
iii.  380 

Todi,  S.  Maria  della  Consolazione  (by 
Bramante),  iii.  82;  birthplace  of  Ja- 
copone,  iv.  285 

Tolommei,  Claudio,  his  Cesano,  v.  271 
note  i 

Tommaso,  a  Dominican  monk,  his 
preaching  at  Milan,  i.  621 

Tommaso  (son  of  Andrea  da  Pontadera), 
iii.  123 

Tommaso  da  Sarzana.  (See  Nicholas  V. ) 

Tornielli   Family,    the,    of    Novara,   i. 

145 

Torquemada,  i.  400 

Torrensi,  the,  or  Della  Torre  family,  at 
Milan:  their  rise  to  power,  i.  112: 
their  downfall,  132,  136 

Torriani,  the,  of  Verona,  ii.  506 

Torrigiani,  his  account  of  Michelangelo's 
scornfulness,  iii.  386  note  2  j  his  quar- 
rel with  Michelangelo,  432,  445  ;  in- 
vites Cellini  to  accompany  him  to 
England,  444 ;  Cellini's  description 
of  him,  445 ;  his  death,  445 

Torrigiani,  Marchionne,  poems  of,  iv. 
164 

Tortello,  Giovanni,  librarian  to  Nicho- 
las V.,  ii.  229 

Tortosa,  the  Cardinal  of.  (See  Adrian 
VI.) 

Tourneur,  Cyril,  the  plots  of  his  dramas 
compared  with  real  events  in  Italian 
history,  v.  117,  118 

Towns,  buying  and  selling  of,  L  114, 
134,  148 


Train  i,  Francesco,  his  Triumph  of  S. 
Caterina,  Pisa,  iii.  207 

Translations  of  the  classics,  executed  by 
command  of  Nicholas  V. ,  ii.  228 

Trapezuntius,  Georgios,  teaches  Greek 
in  Italy,  ii.  210;  employed  by  Nicho- 
las V.  in  translating  Plato  and  Aris- 
totle, 228;  his  quarrel  with  Valla, 
242,  263  ;  his  fight  with  Poggio,  243; 
his  controversy  with  Bessarion,  247 

Trayersari,  Ambrogio  (II  Camaldolese), 
his  account  of  Vittorino's  system  of 
education,  i.  177  ;  a  scholar  of  Gio- 
vanni da  Ravenna,  "ii.  100;  learns 
Greek  from  Chrysoloras,  1 10 ;  cited 
for  the  high  pay  of  the  copyists,  130  ; 
his  distraction  between  scholarship  and 
the  claims  of  the  Church,  193-195  ; 
cited  in  proof  of  Poggio's  account  of 
Filelfo's  marriage,  269  note  i  ;  the 
only  great  monastic  scholar  of  the 
Renaissance,  517  ;  one  of  the  best 
class  of  Humanists,  523 

Tremacoldo,  his  murder  of  the  Vista- 
rini,  i.  148  note  i 

Treviso,  culture  of  the  Trevisan  Court, 
iv.  6,  15 

—  Monte  di  Pieta,  The  Entombment 
(by  Giorgione  ?),  iii.  367  note  2 

Tribune,  name  of  magistrate  in  some 
Italian  cities,  i.  35 

Trifone  [Trifone  Gabrielle],  i.  233,  v. 
78,  253  note  I 

Trinci,  the,  at  Foligno,  massacres  of 
the,  i.  121,  122 

Trissiniana,  La,  an  Academy  founded  by 
Giangiorgio  Trissino.  v.  302 

Trissino,  Ciro  (son  of  Giangiorgio  Tris- 
sino), v.  303 ;  murdered,  305  :  Gian- 
giorgio, story  of  his  life,  300 ;  the 
pupil  of  Demetrius  Chalcondylas,  301; 
his  magnificence  and  studious  retire- 
ment, 302  ;  always  attracted  to  Court 
life,  303  ;  his  quarrel  with  his  son 
Giulio,  303-305  ;  inserts  a  virulent 
satire  on  his  son  in  his  Italia  Libe- 
rata,  304 ;  accuses  him  of  heresy  in 
a  codicil  of  his  will,  304 ;  his  device 
of  the  Golden  Fleece,  305  ;  his  Italia 
Liberata,  126,  127,  306;  its  dulness 
and  unpoetical  character,  307,  520; 
compared  with  Milton's  Epics,  308; 
his  Sofonisba,  the  first  Italian  trage- 


636 


INDEX. 


Trissino,  Giro  (Continued). 
dy,  126,  236,  301,  305;  its  correct- 
ness and  lifelessness,  127  ;  his  comedy, 
the  Simillimi,  305  ;  his  testimony  to 
the  corruption  of  Rome,  190,  303 ; 
his  friendship  with  Giovanni  Rucellai, 
236 ;  his  orthographical  disputes  with 
Firenzuola,  271,  306;  his  Poetica, 
306 ;  discovers  the  De  Eloqtiio  of 
Dante,  306  :  Giulio  (son  of  Giangior- 
gio  Trissino),  his  quarrel  with  his 
father,  303,  325  note  2  ;  denounced  as 
a  heretic  by  his  father  in  his  will,  304; 
condemned  by  the  Inquisition  and  dies 
in  prison,  304 

Trivulzi,  Giovan  Jacopo  da,  i.  552,  573 

Tuldo,  Niccol6,  story  of  his  execution 
as  related  by  S.  Catherine  of  Siena, 
iv.  174 

Tullia  di  Aragona,  the,  poetess,  v.  288 

Turini,  Baldassare,  ii.  405 

Turks,  descent  of  the,  upon  Otranto,  i. 
399,  572  (cp.  v.  122) 

Turpin,  the  Chronicle  of,  iv.  432 

Tuscan,  superiority  of,  to  other  Italian 
dialects,  iv.  31  ;  early  recognition  of 
this,  31 

Tyrannicide,  popular  estimation  of,  in 
Italy,  i.  169 ;  influence  of  the  study 
of  antiquity  in  producing  tyrannicide, 
165,  466,  468,  v.  414 


yBERTI,  the,  at  Florence,  their 
houses  destroyed  as  traitors,  iii. 
„  :  Fazio  degli,  his  Dittamondo  cited 
for  a  description  of  Rome  in  desola- 
tion, ii.  154,  iv.  167 ;  character  of  the 
Dittantondi),  iv.  166-168  ;  his  Ser- 
mintese  on  the  cities  of  Italy,  160 ; 
his  Ode  on  Rome,  160 

Uccello,  Paolo,  his  study  of  perspective, 
iii.  225,  232  ;  his  love  of  natural  stu- 
dies, 226,  231  note  i 

Ugolini,  Baccio,  said  to  have  composed 
music  for  the  Orfeo,  iv.  414 

Ugiltno  da  Siena,  his  painting  of  the 
Madonna  in  Orsammichele,  Florence, 
iii.  125 

Uguccione  da  Fagiuola,  tyrant  of  Lucca, 
L  75  note  i,  112;  introduced  in  the 
frescoes  hi  the  Campo  Santo,  Pisa, 
iii.  203 


Umbria,  distinguished  by  its  pietism,  L 
620  note  i,  iii.  182,  220,  iv.  281 

—  Umbrian  School  in  painting,  the,  its 
originality,  182 

Umidi,  Gli,  an  Academy  at  Florence, 
v.  79,  272  ;  II  Lasca  and  the  Umidi, 
79  note  2;  Doni  once  its  secretary, 
90 

Utnorosi,  the,  an  Academy  at  Bologna, 
ii.  366 

Universities,  Italian,  their  character,  ii. 
115  ;  number  of  foreigners  attending 
them,  119;  liberality  of  the  town 
governments  to  them,  119;  pay  of 
professors  in  them,  120;  subordinate 
position  of  the  Humanist  professors 
in  them,  123 

Urban  VIII.,  consecrates  S.  Peter's,  iii. 

93 

Urbino,  its  position  in  Italian  history, 
v.  498 

—  Castle  of,  iii.  59,  76  ;  wood  panelling 
in,  78  note  2 

Urbino,  Dukes  of,  first  dynasty  (see 
Montefeltro) ;  second  dynasty  (see 
Rovere)  ;  encouragement  of  the  pot- 

•  tery  works  of  Gubbio  by  the  Princes 
of  Urbino.  i.  So 


VALDES,  JOHN,  his  suicide  during 
the  Sack  of  Rome,  ii.  445 
Valeriano,   patronised   by  Ippolito  de' 
Medici,  ii.  405 ;  his  De  Literatorum 
Infelicitate  quoted  for  the  sufferings 
of  the  learned  in  the  Sack  of  Rome, 

443.  542  (cp.  530) ;  for  the  L^"1 
periphrases  employed  by  scholars, 
397  ;  cited  for  Inghirami's  eloquence, 
425  note  i ;  his  work  on  hierogly- 
phics, 428 

Valla,  Lorenzo,  the  tutor  of  Ferdinand 
of  Naples,  i.  174 ;  his  Declamation 
against  the  Donation  of  Constantine, 
377  note  2,  386,  ii.  260 ;  his  stipend 
at  Pavia,  ii.  122  ;  his  translations  of 
Thucydides,  Homer,  and  Herodotus, 
228,  262  ;  appointed  Apostolic  Scrip- 
tor  by  Nicholas  V.,  229,  262 ;  his 
quarrel  with  Poggio,  240  note  i,  241, 
263 :  with  Trapezuntios  and  with 
Morando,  242,  263  ;  cited  for  Alfonso 
the  Magnanimous'  love  of  learning, 


INDEX. 


637 


Valla,  Lorenzo  {Continued}. 

253  ;  his  opposition  to  the  Church, 
258,  261 ;  the  publication  of  the  Ele- 
gantia:  brings  him  into  fame,  259  (cp. 
526) ;  invited  to  Naples  by  Alfonso, 
261 ;  his  appearance  before  the  In- 
quisition, 262 ;  his  dispute  with  Fazio, 
263  ;  his  character  of  Aurispa,  302 
note  i  ;  the  De  Voluptate,  v.  455, 

457.  5'9 

Valori,  Baccio,  i.  230,  285  :  Filippo, 
bears  the  expense  of  printing  Ficino's 
Plato,  ii.  326 

Vandyck,  Antony,  his  portrait  of  Car- 
dinal de'  Bentivogli,  ii.  27 

Van  Eyck,  John,  his  power  of  colouring, 
iii.  349 ;  comparison  of  his  works 
with  those  of  the  Venetian  masters, 

361 

Vanini,  his  execution,  v.  478 
Vannucci,  Pietro.     (See  Perugino. ) 
Varallo,  S.  Maria  delle  Grazie,  iii.  489 ; 
the  terra-cotta  groups  in  the  Sacro 
Monte,  cited   in   illustration   of    the 
Sacred  Drama,  iv.  327  note  I 
Varani,  the,  of  Camerino,  i.  in,  375; 
massacre  of  them,  121,    164  note  i  •; 
members  of  this  family  become  Con- 
dottieri,  161 

Varano,  Giovanni,  his  murder,  i.  119 
note  2  :  Giulio  Cesare,  story  of,  121 ; 
murdered  with  three  of  his  sons  by 
Cesare  Borgia,  122,  353,  427 
Varchi,  Benedetto,  his  Florentine  His- 
tory, i.  278,  279  ;  employed  by  Duke 
Cosimo  to  write  the  work,  20 1  ;  its 
character  and  value,  293  ;  written  in 
a  liberal  spirit,  289 ;  Varchi's  labour 
in  writing  the  History,  249  note  2 ; 
his  study  of  Tacitus  and  Polybius, 
250  note  i ;  account  of  the  Floren- 
tine government,  .195  note  I  (see  also 
Appendix  ii.  vol.  i.) ;  the  Genoese 
constitution  of  1528,  201  note  I ;  Sa- 
vonarola's legislation,  202  note  2 ;  the 
defects  of  the  Florentine  State,  204 ; 
the  population  of  Florence,  209 ; 
censure  of  the  Ordinance  della  Gius- 
tizia,  225,  244 ;  the  corruption  of 
Florence,  231,  282;  Florentine  intel- 
ligence, 232;  the  conduct  of  the 
Florentine  exiles,  236  ;  the  dedication 
of  Florence  to  Christ,  222  note  I  ; 


Varchi,  Benedetto  (Continued). 

the  Parlamento  at  Florence,  227  note 
2 ;  character  of  Guicciardini,  296,  296 
note  2,  298  note  i,  299  notes  i,  2  and 
3,  300  note  2 ;  the  reception  of  Ma- 
chiavelli's  Prince  at  Florence,  326  ; 
character  of  Machiavelli,  333  ;  Italian 
immorality,  477  note  i ;  Florentine 
habits  of  life,  Appendix  ii.  (p.  595); 
description  of  the  friars  who  preached 
in  Rome  in  Clement's  Pontificate, 
620 ;  the  murder  of  Alessandro  de' 
Medici  by  his  cousin  Lorenzino,  v. 
118: — the  Ercolano  (Dialogo  delle 
Lingue),  v.  271  note  i  ;  its  account 
of  Varchi's  early  training,  iv.  237 : 
the  Dissertation  on  Buonarroti's  Son- 
nets, iii.  520,  v.  297  :  the  pastoral 
poems,  v.  224 ;  Varchi  sides  with 
Caro  in  his  quarrel  with  Castelvetro, 
286 ;  his  Capitoli,  365  ;  his  corre- 
spondence with  Aretino,  410  note  \ 

Vasari,  Giorgio,  finishes  the  cupola  of 
the  Umiltk  at  Pistoja,  iii.  83  :  the 
Lives  of  the  Painters,  ii.  36 ;  their  in- 
accuracy, iii.  103,  116;  ascribes  Flo- 
rentine intelligence  to  the  Tuscan  air, 
i.  232 ;  his  remark  on  the  indebted- 
ness of  Michelangelo  to  Signorelli,  iiL 
279  ;  the  story  of  Signorelli  s  paint- 
ing his  dead  son,  280  ;  his  relation  of 
Signorelli's  visit  to  Arezzo,  293  ;  his 
character  of  Signorelli,  293  ;  his  ac- 
count of  Perugino,  297,  299 ;  on 
Lionardo  da  Vinci,  323,  324;  on 
Raphael's  gentleness,  329 ;  his  pane- 
gyric of  Michelangelo,  424,  494;  his 
account  of  Benvenuto  Cellini,  440; 
the  story  of  the  picture  painted  by 
Botticelli  for  Palmieri,  iv.  171  ;  the 
midsummer  festivals  at  Florence,  318, 
325  ;  the  Triumph  of  Death,  393- 
395,  v.  114;  the  festivals  organised 
by  Rustici,  v.  115:  Vasari's  friend- 
ship with  Michelangelo  and  Aretino, 
409  note  2 

Vatican  library,  its  foundation,  i.  21,  ii. 
227,  357;  opened  to  the  public  by 
SixtusIV.,  384  note  I,  ii.  227,  359; 
librarians  of  the  Vatican  from  Inghir- 
ami  to  Aleander,  424 

Vaucluse,  Petrarch's  residence  at,  iv. 
87,96 


638 


INDEX. 


Vegio,  Matteo,  the  only  writer  of  Latin 
verse  in  the  Renaissance  who  took  the 
cowl,  ii.  517 

Velletti,  Agostino,  author  of  the  novel 
in  verse  of  Ginevra  degli  Almieri,  iv. 
250  ;  analysis  of  the  story,  250 

Venasso,  Antonio  da,  murdered  at  Sini- 
gaglia  by  Cesare  Borgia,  i.  351 

Veneziano,  Marco,  his  friendship  with 
Berni,  v.  363 

Venice,  defeat  of  the  Venetians  by 
Francesco  Sforza,  i.  155  ;  selfish  pol- 
icy of  Venetians  in  not  supporting  the 
Milanese,  155;  neutrality  of  Venice 
in  the  French  invasion,  550  note  i ; 
heads  the  league  against  Charles  VIII., 
576 :  hostile  to  the  Roman  Church, 
35.  »"•  353-  357,  v.  89,  393  ;  hatred 
of  Venice  by  other  States,  i.  91,  214  ; 
never  entrusted  her  armies  to  Vene- 
tians, 157,  220;  contentment  of  the 
Venetians  with  their  government, 
198,  200,  215,  220,  233,  iii.  353; 
political  isolation  of  Venice,  i.  214; 
Venetian  constitutional  history,  215- 
219;  good  government  of  the  subject 
cities  by  Venice,  220 ;  liberty  of  life 
and  speech  at  Venice,  iv.  364,  v.  393, 
497  :  estimates  of  the  number  of  in- 
habitants, L  210;  divisions  of  the 
population,  215;  trading  spirit  of 
Venice,  238,  iii.  353  ;  Venetian  lux- 
ury, i-  475.  iii-  167.  353.  iv-  365<  v. 
191 ;  unenthusiastic  character  of  Ve- 
netian religion,  iii.  357-359  :  contrast 
of  Venice  and  Florence,  i.  221,  222 
note  i,  231,  306  note  2,  iii.  182,  354  ; 
comparison  between  Venice  and  Spar- 
ta, i.  234,  306  note  2 ;  beauty  of 
Venice,  iii.  348 :  Venetian  art  iso- 
lated from  that  of  the  rest  of  Italy,  iii. 
313;  architecture  of  the  Venetian 
palaces,  60 ;  literature  not  encouraged 
at  Venice,  i.  79,  233,  ii.  108,  212, 
247  note  3,  441,  v.  497 ;  early  Vene- 
tian printers,  ii.  369,  376,  386;  the 
press  at  Venice,  iv.  364,  v.  96,  104 
Frari,  the,  Donatello's  (woodea^ 
statue  of  the  Baptist,  iii.  136  note  2  : 
S.  Giovanni  e  Paolo  ('  S.  Zanipolo '), 
the  Tombs  of  the  Doges,  162  :  S. 
Maria  dell'  Orto,  Tintoretto's  paint- 
ings, 376  note  i  :  S.  Mark,  its  style 


Venice,  Frari,  the  (Continued.) 

borrowed  from  the  mosques  of  Alex- 
andria,  44,  45  ;  the  bronze  door  of 
the  sacristy  by  Sansovino,  168,  v. 
424:  S.  Zaccaria,  Giovanni  Bellini's 
Madonna  -with  Saints,  iii.  365 

—  Scuola  di  S.  Croce,  iii.  363;  its  deco- 
rations by  Gentile  Bellini,  363  :  Scu- 
ola di  Sant'  Orsula,  363;  its  deco- 
rations by  Carpaccio,  363,  iv.  343,  v. 
54 :  Scuola  di  San  Rocco,  iii  85 ;  Tin- 
toretto's paintings,  375  note  i,  380 

—  Ducal  Palace,  the,  iii.  61,  355,  376 
note   i  ;  contrast    of  its   decorations 
with  those  of  the   Public   Palace  of 
Siena,   359  :  Palazzo   Corner,   85  : — 
Vendramini-Calergi,  85 

—  Library  of  S.  Mark's,  the,  iii.  85 
Venetian  Masters,  the,  distinguished  by 

their  preference  for  sensuous  beauty, 
iii.  182,  340,  354,  453,  iv.  402  ;  in- 
fluence of  the  peculiar  character  of 
Venice  upon  them,  iii.  348  ;  their  art 
to  be  compared  to  that  of  Greece,  355, 
357;  their  personification  of  Venice, 
233.  *"•  355,  356>  360;  quality  of 
their  religion,  357-359,  361,  364; 
originality  of  their  art,  361  note  i, 
362 ;  comparison  between  them  and 
the  Flemish  masters,  361  ;  subjects  of 
their  art,  i.  233,  iii.  362  ;  the  unity 
and  solidarity  of  the  Venetian  school, 
371  ;  their  naturalness,  382 

Veniero,  Lorenzo,  his  relations  to  Are- 
tino,  v.  419 

Venusti,  Marcello,  influence  of  Michel- 
angelo on  his  works,  iii.  493 

Vercelli :  Ferrari's  frescoes,  iii.  489 : 
High  School,  the,  ii.  116 

Vergerio,  Pier  Paolo  (the  elder),  a 
scholar  of  Giovanni  da  Ravenna,  ii. 
IOO 

Vergerio,  Pier  Paolo,  Bishop  of  Capo 
d'Istria,  his  attack  on  Delia  Casa,  v. 
275  note  i,  381  note  I ;  his  account 
of  Berni's  conversion  to  Lutheranism, 
378  note  i ;  relates  that  Berni's  object 
in  the  rifadmento  of  the  Orlando 
Innamorato  was  the  diffusion  of  Lu- 
theran opinions,  378-380  ;  his  flattery 
of  Aretino,  410  note  i 

Verme,  Jacopo  dal,  leader  of  Condot- 
tieri,  i.  150 


INDEX. 


639 


Verocchio,  Andrea,  importance  of  his 
influence,  iii.  141  ;  limitations  of  his 
genius,  142 ;  various  works  of  his  at 
Florence,  142,  145 ;  his  equestrian 
statue  of  Colleoni,  143 

Verona  :  S.  Anastasia,  monument  of  the 
Cavalli,  iii.  163;  tombs  of  the  Scali- 
gers,  124,  163 

Veronese,  Paolo,  his  Europa,  illustrat- 
ing his  treatment  of  mythology,  iii. 
291, 374  ;  his  appearance  before  the, In- 
quisition, 359,  446  note  I ;  his  sense 
of  magnificence,  370  (cp.  v.  398  note 
2)  ;  subjects  of  his  art,  iii.  372,  374  ; 
his  types  of  beauty  compared  with 
those  of  Rubens,  372  ;  his  sobriety  of 
imagination  and  excellence  of  work- 
manship, 373-374 

Verradi,  Carlo,  his  Ferrandus  Servatus, 
v.  117  note  i 

Verucchio,  capture  of,  i.  176 

Vesc,  Stephen  de,  Seneschal  de  Beau- 
caire,  his  influence  with  Charles  VIII., 

i.  541 

Vespasiano,  his  contempt  for  printing, 
ii.  304,  370 ;  the  last  of  the  copyists, 
and  the  first  of  modern  booksellers, 
306  ;  value  of  his  work,  and  goodness 
of  his  character,  307  ;  reason  why  he 
wrote  in  Italian,  iv.  235 :  his  Bio- 
graphies, 265  note  i ;  his  Life  of  Duke 
Frederick  of  Urbino,  174,  176,  179; 
the  library  which  he  collected  for  the 
Duke  of  Urbino,  175,  ii.  304;  cited 
for  the  Life  of  Pandolfino,  1.239  note  I, 
iv.  199;  does  not  mention  him  as 
author  of  the  Governo  della  Famiglia, 
iv.  199 ;  his  account  of  Poggio  and 
Bruni,  i.  275  ;  his  Life  of  Alfonso  the 
Magnanimous,  480  note  i,  569  note  I ; 
his  Life  of  San  Bernardino,  612; 
quoted  for  Italian  profligacy,  477  note 
I ;  his  Life  of  Piero  de'  Pazzi,  ii.  42 
note  i  ;  his  account  of  how  Palladegli 
Strozzi  brought  Girysoloras  to  Flo- 
rence, 109;  cited  for  Strozzi' s  services 
to  learning,  166;  copies  MSS.  for 
Cosimo  de'  Medici,  174;  relates  how 
he  collected  books  for  Cosimo,  175  ; 
quoted  for  Cosimo's  versatility  of  tal- 
ent, 176;  his  anecdote  of  Cosimo's 
pruning  his  own  fruit  trees,  v.  196  ; 
his  Lite  of  Niccolo  de'  Niccoli,  ii.  178 ; 


Vespasiano  (Continued}. 

his  Life  of  Carlo  Marsuppini,  186, 530 ; 
his  Life  of  Manetti,  186  note  \  •  his 
description  of  Tommaso  Parentucelli 
(Nicholas  V.)  in  the  Medicean  circle 
at  Florence,  224;  the  catalogue  of 
Niccolo's  MSS.  made  by  Tommaso, 
174 ;  his  account  of  his  interview  with 
Tommaso  after  his  election,  226 ;  his 
character  of  Nicholas,  226  ;  his  story 
of  Pope  Calixtus  in  the  Vatican  Li- 
brary, 357 ;  cited  for  Vittorino  da 
Feltre's  purity  of  character,  297  ;  for 
the  virtues  of  the  Cardinal  di  Porto- 
gallo,  iii.  154,  v.  324  note  i 

Vespucci,  Guido  Antonio,  i.  201 

Vettori,  Francesco,  i.  197  note  i,  203  note 
I,  230;  the  friend  of  Machiavelli,  315, 
317  note  i,  322  note  2,  318 ;  his  Som- 
mario  della  Storia  d'  Italia,  Appen- 
dix v.  vol.  i. 

Vicars  of  the  Church,  their  passage  to 
tyranny,  i.  in 

Vicars  of  the  Empire,  i.  35,  106,  133 ; 
their  passage  to  tyranny,  ni,  156 

Vicenza,  early  printing  at,  ii.  376; 
luxury  of  the  nobles  of  Vicenza,  v. 
191 

—  Palazzo  della  Ragione,  by  Palladio, 
iii.  95  ;  representation  of  Anguillara's 
Edippo  there,  v.  134 

—  High  School,  the,  ii.  116;  attendance 
of  foreigners  there,  119 ;  its  early  de- 
cline, v.  497 

Vico  of  the  Prefetti  at  Viterbo,  Fran- 
cesco, murder  of,  i.  120,  168  note  i 

Victor,  John  Bonifacius,  tortured  by  the 
Spaniards  at  the  Sack  of  Rome,  ii. 

445 

Victor  II.,  i.  59 

Vida,  made  Bishop  of  Alba,  ii.  403,  407; 
his  Cremonese  origin,  illustrating  the 
loss  of  intellectual  supremacy  by  Flo- 
rence, 506;  frigid  purism  of  his  Chris- 
tiad,  398,  399  (cp.  535,  v-  5*9); 
quotad  to  illustrate  the  subjects  m 
which  the  poets  of  the  Renaissance 
best  succeeded,  ii.  400 ;  the  Art  of 
Poetry,  471-476 ;  the  apostrophe  to 
Rome,i475,!v.  522:  translated  (prose), 

Vidovero,  of  Brescia,  murdered  by  Pan- 
dolfo  Malatesta,  i.  113  note  \ 


640 


INDEX. 


Vignajuoli,  7,  name  of  an  Academy  at 
Rome,  ii.  365,  v.  227,  272,  357 

Vignate,  Giovanni,  the  millionaire  of 
Lodi,  i.  1 14 ;  imprisonecHn  a  wooden 
cage  by  Filippo  Visconti,  120 

Vignola,  his  labours  at  S.  Peter's,  iii. 
93;  his  'Treatise  on  the  Orders,'  95, 
96  note  i  ;  character  of  his  genius,  96 

Vigon9a,  the  hero  of  an  anonymous 
Maccaronic  poem  by  a  Paduan  author, 
v.  331,  479  not*  * 

Villani,  Chronicle  of  the,  iv.  176;  its 
value,  i.  251-260;  praised  by  Ves- 
pasiano,  276 

—  Filippo,  continues  the  Chronicle  of 
Florence,  i.  254;  his  Lives  of  illus- 
trious Florentines,  255 ;  cited  for  the 
story  of  Boccaccio  at  the  tomb  of 
Virgil,  ii.  88,  iv.  102  ;  apologises  for 
his  father  not  having  written  in  Latin, 
iv.  236 :  Giovanni,  his  Chronicle  of 
Florence,  i.  251,  254  '}  his  reasons  for 
undertaking  it,  253,  ii.  30,  144;  cited 
for  the  division  of  Guelfs  and  Ghibel- 
lines,  i.  8l ;  for  the  rise  of  the  Con- 
dottiere  system,  156 ;  his  account  of 
the  Flagellants,  618;  his  relation  of 
the  taxes  raised  in  Florence  to  build 
the  Cathedral,  iii.  64  ;  1  is  story  of  the 
representation  of  Hell  by  burghers  of 
the  Borgo  S.  Friano,  198,  v.  114; 
his  description  of  Florentine  festivals, 
iv.  50,  51  :  Matteo,  his  description  of 
the  despots,  i.  128 ;  continues  his 
brother's  Chronicle,  254 :  cited  for  the 
assassination  of  Matteo  Visconti,  137 
note  i ;  for  the  cruelty  of  Bernabo 
Visconti,  139  note  i  ;  his  account  of 
the  'Black  Death,'  259,  iv.  in,  v. 
191 ;  of  the  preaching  of  Fra  Jacopo, 
i.  610  ;  of  the  foundation  of  the  Flo- 
rentine University,  ii.  119 

Villotta,  a  name  in  N.  E.  Italy  for  the 
Rispetti,  iv.  264,  266 

Vinci,  Lionardo  da,  universality  of  his 
genius,  171,  326,  ii.  10,  iii.  313,  314, 
322,  327  note  i,  382 ;  the  only  great 
Florentine  artist  not  befriended  \\jth 
the  Medici,  iii.  263  ;  one  of  the  four 
great  artists  by  whom  the  Renais- 
sance was  fully  expressed,  312;  his 
studies  of  beauty  and  ugliness,  316- 
318;  his  interest  in  psychological 


Vinci,  Lionardo  da  {Continued). 

problems,  318  (cp.  35),  323,  363;  his 
study  of  the  technicalities  of  art,  320; 
his  love  of  strange  things,  321 ;  his 
strong  personality,  322  note  3,  329 ; 
his  reluctance  to  finish,  323.  482 ; 
greatness  of  his  aims,  325;  his  S.  John^ 
as  illustrating  the  introduction  of  Pa- 
gan motives  into  Christian  art,  34, 
137,  318 ;  indebted  for  the  type  of 
face  preferred  by  him  to  Verocchio, 
142,  316 ;  his  models  for  an  equestrian 
statue  of  Francesco  Sforza,  144,  324, 
325  ;  his  Leda  and  the  Swan,  illus- 
trating his  treatment  of  the  antique, 
291,  318;  fate  of  his  works,  325  ;  tl.e 
cartoon  for  the  Council  Chamber  at 
Florence,  325,  396;  the  Last  Supfcr^ 
323,  326 ;  Leonardo's  vi>it  to  the 
Court  of  France,  445  ;  school  formed 
by  him  at  Milan,  482  ;  his  Treatise  on 
Physical  Proportions,  ii.  37 ;  his 
Poems,  iii.  314  ;  translation  of  a  son- 
net, 314  note  I 

Vinciguerra,  Antonio,  his  satirical 
poems,  v.  381 

Vindelino  of  Spires,  joins  his  brother 
John  as  printer  at  Venice,  ii.  369 

Violi,  Lorenzo,  his  notes  of  Savona- 
rola's sermons,  i.  511,  530  note  i 

Virago,  used  without  reproach  at  the 
time  of  the  Renaissance  as  a  term  for 
accomplished  ladies,  v.  288 

Virgil,  read  in  the  middle  ages,  i.  20 ; 
honours  paid  to  him  at  Mantua,  20,  ii. 
30,  63 ;  translation  of  a  stanza  from 
a  hymn  on  Virgil  used  at  Mantua, 
63 ;  turned  by  popular  belief  into  a 
magician,  a  Christian,  a  prophet  of 
Christ,  65,  143;  influence  of  the  Ec- 
logues in  forming  the  ideal  of  a  Golden 
Age  prevalent  at  the  Renaissance,  v. 
195  ;  his  tomb  at  Naples,  i.  461,  ii. 
30,  iv.  12,  88,  IOI 

Viridario,  the,  an  Academy  at  Bo- 
logna, ii.  366 

Virtii)  Machiavelli's  use  of  the  word.  i. 
171,  337  note  I,  345,  482.  484,  493, 
"•  3S>  v-  44O>  illustrated  by  Ben- 
venuto  Cellini,  iii.  439,  479  :  by  Are- 
tino,  iv.  497,  v.  410,  416,  425 

Virtu,  Le,  the  Vitruvian  Club  at  Rome, 
ii.  366,  v.  227 


INDEX. 


641 


Visconti,  the,  i.  81,  Ii6;  quarrel  of  the 
Visconti  with  Florence,  81,  82  ;  how 
they  acquired  their  power,  112 ;  their 
patronage  of  art,  iii.  42 

—  Azzo,  i.  133,  134 ;  his  impartiality, 
83  note  i :  Bernabo,  136,  139,  140, 
141 :  Carlo,  one  of  the  assassins  of 
Galeazzo  Maria  Sforza,  165  :  Filippo 
Maria,  was  afraid  of  thunder,  119, 
152  ;  imprisons  Giovanni  Vignate  in 
a  wooden  cage,  120;  seizes  Pavia, 
151 ;  has  his  wife  beheaded,  152  note 
2;  his  character,  153,  ii.  265;  his 
conduct  to  Alfonso  the  Magnanimous, 
i.  sfi&note  I  ;  his  patronage  of  Filelfo, 
ii.  265,  277  ;  commissions  Filelfo  to 
write  an  Italian  poem  on  S.  John 
the  Baptist,  279,  iv.  235 :  Gabriello, 
i.  102,  151 :  Galeazzo  (i),  133:  Gale- 
azzo (2),  134,  136-140 :  Gian  Gale- 
azzo, 87,  98,  102,  113  note  I,  138; 
his  marriage,  138;  succeeds,  140; 
murders  his  uncle,  141  ;  his  love  of 
art,  141  ;  the  grandeur  of  his  schemes, 
141  ;  his  wealth,  143;  his  character, 
144;  his  plots  against  the  D'Este 
Family  and  .the  Gonzaghi,  146,  147  ; 
transfers  Asti  to  the  House  of  Or- 
leans, 143  note  i,  v.  333  ;  progress  of 
his  conquests,  149  ;  dies  of  the  plague, 
149,  iv.  162 ;  his  plan  to  make  him- 
self King  of  Italy,  iv.  161  ;  his  say- 
ing on  the  injury  caused  him  by  Salu- 
tato's  literary  powers,  ii.  104 :  Gio- 
vanni, Archbishop  of  Milan,  i.  135, 
136:  Giovanni  Maria,  151 ;  his  cruel- 
ty and  lust,  151,  478  ;  murdered,  152, 
397  note  2  :  Lucchino,  134  :  Matteo, 
136:  Otho,  Archbishop  of  Milan, 
causes  the  downfall  of  the  Delia  Torre 
family,  132:  Stefano,  136:  Valentina, 
her  marriage  to  Louis  d'Orleans,  143 
note  i,  154  note  I  :  Violante,  her 
marriage  to  the  Duke  of  Clarence, 
137  note  2 

Viscounts,  creation  of  the  title,  i.  53 

Vistarini  family,  the,  their  murder  by 
Fisiraga,  i.  120;  massacre  by  Trema- 
coldo,  148  note  i 

Vitelleschi,  Cardinal  dei,  his  slaughter 
of  the  Trinci,  i.  122;  attacked  by 
Valla  in  the  treatise  on  Constantinis 
Donation^  ii.  260 


Vitelti,  the,  ofCittadi  Castello,  their  rise 
to  power,  i.  114;  members  of  this 
family  become  Condottieri,  161 

—  Vitelozzo,  i.  351  ;  murdered  by  Ce-are 
Borgia  at  Sinigaglia,  351,  352,  462 

Viterbo,  pageants  at,  in  1462,  on  the 
Corpus  Christi  festival,  iv.  316 

Vitoni,  Ventura,  his  Church  of  the 
Umilta  at  Pistoja,  iii.  83 

Vitruvius,  his  influence  on  Italian  archi- 
tects, ii.  436,  iii.  94  note  i 

Vivarini,  the,  the  first  masters  of  the 
Venetian  School,  iii.  361 

Volaterranus,  Jacobus,  his  character  of 
Julius  II.,  i.  389  note  3 

Volterra,  Sack  of,  i.  176  note  l 

—  Duomo,  the  :  its  roof,  iii.  79  note  4  ; 
Mino    da    Fiesole's    Ciborium,    158 
note  i 


WALTER  of  Brienne.  (See  Duke 
of  Athens.) 

Webster,  the  dramatist,  quoted,  i.  119 
note  2,  ii.  35,  iii.  155;  his  'White 
Devil  of  Italy,'  L  557,  v.  69,  117, 
288;  his  treatment  of  Italian  subjects, 
68,  117 

Wenceslaujv  the  Emperor,  i.  148,  154 

Werner  of  Urslingen,  leader  of  Con- 
dottieri, i.  86,  158 

William  II.,  of  bicily,  beginning  of  the 
Sicilian  period  of  Italian  literature  at 
his  Court,  iv.  21 

Wippo,  his  panegyric  to  the  Emperor 
Henry  III.,  cited,  iv.  4 

Witchcraft,  Bull  of  Innocent  VIII. 
against,  i.  402  note  i,  v.  347  ;  sup- 
posed prevalence  of  witchcraft  in  the 
Valtellina  and  Val  Camonica,  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  i.  402  note  I,  v. 
316,  346  notes  i  and  2,  347  ;  general 
belief  in  witchcraft  at  that  period  in 
Italy,  344;  character  of  the  Italian 
witches,  345 ;  Teutonic  character  of 
witchcraft  in  the  Lombard  district, 

347 

Wolfhard,  his  Life  of  S.  Walpurgi?, 
cited  for  medieval  contempt  of  an- 
tiquity, ii.  60 

Women,    abu=e    of,    common   to   tl 
authors  of  the  Renaissance,  how  ex- 
plained, iv.  212 


642 


INDEX. 


Wool  trade,  the,  of  Florence,  i.  257 
Worcester,  Earl  of,  Bruni's  translation 
of  Aristotle's  Politics  originally  dedi- 
cated to  him,  ii.  184 


ENOPHON,  the  influence  of  his 
(Economicus  on  Italian  writers, 
iv.  196 


ZANCHIUS,  BASILIUS,  his  verses 
upon  the  death  of  Navagero,  ii. 
488 

Zaiie,    Paolo,    his    encouragement    of 
learning  at   Venice,    ii.   212  ;    sends 
Guarino  to  Constantinople,  299 
Zeno,  the  Greek  Emperor,  i.  46 
Zilioli,  his  account  -of  Doni's  life  at 
Monselice,  v.  91 


TRANSLATIONS  IN  VERSE  BY  AUTHOR. 


Alamanni    . 

Aretino,  Epitaph  on    . 

Aristotle     . 

Bembo 

Benivieni     . 

Bernard,  S. 
Berni . 


Boiardo 


Buonarroti 


Campanella 

Canto  Carnascialesco 

Delia  Casa 

Donnti 

Folengo 


Folgore  da  San  Gemignano 

Guidiccioni 

Jbycus 

Jacopone,  Fra     . 

Machiavelli 

Medici,  Lorenzo  de'    „ 


Molza 
Poliziano 


Popular  Songs,  Four 
Pulci  . 


Sacre  Rappresentazioni 
Sannazzaro 

Sappho 

Vinci.  Lionardo  da 

Virgil 


.  Triumph  of  Death,  iv.  395 

.  v.  423 

.  Lines  on  Virtue,  iv.  62 

.  De  Galeso,  ii.  483  ;  a  Sonnet,  v.  262 

.  Song  of  Divine  Madness,  i.  481,  iv.  304;  Laud  to 
Jesus,  iv.  303  ;  Passage  from  an  Elegy,  561 

.   Stanzas  from  the  Passion  Hymn,  iii.  17 

.  Sonnet  on  Clement  VII  ,  v.  368 ;  Confession  of  Faith 
from  the  Rifacimento  of  Orlando  Innamorato 
543-547 

.  Sleeping  Rinaldo,  iv.  471  ;  Apostrophe  of  Orlando, 
473  ;  on  Friendship,  474  ;  Discourse  of  Orlando 
with  Agricane,  475-477  ;  on  Chivalrous  Indiffer- 
ence to  Wealth,  477  ;  Rinaldo  at  Merlin's  Well, 
482-484  ;  Tale  of  Narcissus,  485-487 

.  Madrigal  on  Florence,  iii.  392  ;  •  Quatrain  on  La 
Notte,  394;  Twenty-three  Sonnets,  Appendix  ii.; 
Passage  from  an  Elegy,  iv.  561 

.   Three  Sonnets,  v.  481-483 

.  The  Triumph  of  the  Sieve,  iv.  392 

.  Six  Sonnets,  v.  279 

.  Three  Madrigals,  iv.  531 

.  Two  Stanzas  from  the  Orlandino,  v.  320  note  2 ; 
Berta's  Prayer  from  ditto,356;  Rainero's  Discourse 
on  Monks  from  ditto,  537-540;  Rainero's  Con- 
fession of  Faith  from  ditto,  541-543 

.  Ten  Sonnets,  iv.  526-530 

.   A  Sonnet,  v.  282 

.  On  Peace,  iv.  52 

.  Presepio,  iv.  532-534  ;  Corrotto,  535-538 ;  Stanzas 
from  the  Hymn  of  Love,  539-542 

.   Epigram  on  Soderini,  i.  297 

.  Sonnet  to  Venus,  iv.  373 ;  Sonnet  to  the  Evening 
Star,  374;  Passages  from  Le  Selve,  376-380; 
Passage  from  Corinto,  377  ;  Song  of  Bacchus  and 
Ariadne,  390 

.   Five  Stanzas  from  the  Ninfa  Tiberina,  v.  231-233 

.  Pantheistic  Hymn,  ii.  24  ;  Ballata  of  Roses,  iv.  378  ; 
Golden  Age,  408;  Chorus  of  Maenads,  414; 
Passages  from  the  Canzoni  and  Giostra,  420 

.  iv.  264-266 

.  Character  of  Margutte,  iv.  543-549 ;  Discourses  of 
Astarotte,  549-556  ;  Description  of  the  Storm  at 
Saragossa,  557 ;  Autobiographical  Stanzas,  558  ; 
Death  of  Baldwin,  559 

.  S.  Uliva :  Dirge  for  Narcissus,  iv.  328;  May  Song 
329  ;  S.  Maddalena :  Christ's  Sermon,  333-336 

.  Sonnet  on  Jealousy,  v.  200;  Sestine  from  the 
Arcadia,  212 

.   On  Fame,  ii.  41 

.   Sonnet,  iii.  314 

,  Stanza  from  a  Hymn  on,  ii.  63 


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